Lex Luthor Triumphant
by GuapoMendez
Summary: Ch. 1: It's been 8 months since Superman disappeared. Can Lois find where he is? Ch. 2: What really happened that day when LexCorp Tower trembled? Ch. 3: Is it really Solitude when he's not alone? Ch. 4: Is his heart colder than the Antarctic? Ch. 5: It was a Dark Knight 6. Meanwhile... 7.- Making progress 8.- Truth is what I make of it. 9. Fiat justitia ruat caelum
1. Chapter 1

"Yes, Pearl?"

"It's your two o'clock interview with _The Planet_."

Lex Luthor remained silent for a second. "Send her in. And contact Markinson on S&R Research and tell him to go ahead with Scenario 5."

"Yes sir."

The massive oaken doors of his office opened and Lois Lane entered. The sound of her footsteps on the cool marble floors made her sound smaller than she was. Lex greeted her warmly and motioned her to a chair.

"I'm always happy to give an interview to the Planet;" He said and sat down, "tell me, Miss Lane, what do you want to talk about? The new line of bulletproof LexVests? Perhaps our limited edition line of industrial drills, which reduce oil drilling time by 70%?" A warm, ingratiating smile. "Anything, really. My time is your time."

Lois sat down at took out her recorder, but Lex could see she never flipped it on. "Few things interest me anymore, Mister Luthor…for instance, how about the nosedive Lexcorp stock took six months ago? Rumor has it you had to sell everything that wasn't nailed down."

"Nosedive? Hardly. Mainstream media likes to tar and feather me from time to time, but it has yet to stick. Yes, we renegotiated a few deals, moved some key elements in my organization and yes, I was sandbagged like everyone else with that Madden fraud."

"Sandbagged? I refuse to believe that the man who has profited from every financial fiasco in the past 20 years got sweet-talked out of 4.2 billion dollars."

"I wish it hadn't gone that way, but I consider it a life lesson." He shrugged. "If you check our balance sheet you'll see that Lexcorp not only recovered from that loss, but we made a tidy profit this quarter."

"To the tune of 7 billion."

"Is that the sum? After your first billion rolls by, the next few tend to blur together."

"Analysts predict another 3 billion dollars profit once you unveil the Golden Argosy, but the prototype hasn't moved from LexAir's hangars. Any comment on that?"

"Developing eco-friendly, supersonic aircraft capable of carrying what two Hercules can is somewhat tricky. We're working out the kinks and I'm confident we'll have it ready for the general public by the end of the year."

"Interesting…now how about…" Lois looks down to her notepad, as if choosing her next question, but her will faltered. "Enough of this, Luthor…where is he?"

Lex had examined Lois Lane when she came in. She looked desperate. True, she had done a remarkable job of primping herself up, but the signs were there: her eyes were bloodshot from too little sleep, her face riddled with frown marks, her gestures were strained and he could see her hands tremble…even her wardrobe was poorly chosen.

Lex leaned back on his leather chair and picked up a crystal globe from his desk. As he toyed with it, Lois could see there was something encased in it.

"Miss Lane, I have no idea of whom you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. You goddamn know."

"Manners, Miss Lane…and I thought you came to talk about business."

"I don't care about you, I don't care about your stupid company or all of your eco-friendly bullshit. WHERE IS HE?"

Lex Luthor stood up and walked towards his office's massive window. He looked down at the city and spoke. "I love this city. I love what it is and what it can do. It has talent and potential and yes, it can be great if the right man is there to steer it.

"There already is a great man to steer it."

"No, Miss Lane, he is not a man. He may look like one, but he is_ not_ one. He's an alien." He turned around to peer at Lois and the back light gave him an eerie aura. "Unwanted and unneeded. I was here to care for this city long before he decided to show up."

"Care? You've blackmailed, you've killed, you've framed and murdered your way through…"

"ah-ah-ah, Miss Lane, it's only fair to remove the weak elements so the herd can survive. And some people need to be persuaded, prodded…or dealt with, so progress can keep marching on."

"Where is he, Lex?" Her voice was small and weak and Lex could barely make out her words "No one has seen him in eight months."

"I wouldn't know. I never had the desire to look up in the sky and pick him out among birds or planes."

She continued, as if she didn't hear him "Not even the League found…please tell me…" She looked down, perhaps to cover her tears. "I'll…I'll do anything…" Or her shame. "Did you hear me? Anything. Just tell me."

Lex looked at her for a little while, the hum of the air conditioning barely drowning her tears. He walked towards his desk and pressed the intercom. "Pearl, hold my calls."

"Yes, mister Luthor."

"So, you want to know." He said as he nodded magnanimously. "Fine, I'll tell you."

He walked towards a bookcase and stood next to it. "Alexander Luthor, plus one. Code Sigma User Pi Epsylon Rho Mi Alpha Ni. "

A retinal scanner took his readings while the voice identification software processed his voice.

"**Access Granted. Good Day, Mister Luthor**" The bookcase opened inwards, revealing a long, well lit corridor, leading to an elevator.

"Come, come, Miss Lane." Lois stood up, dumbfounded. Was Lex about to show her? She kept her JLA signal device close in hand to give the alarm if needed.

She joined him at the entrance of the corridor and they walked towards the elevator. "Ah, where to start? Well, I might as well do it from the beginning." The bookcase swung back and closed the passage.

"You spoke about the 4.2 billion loss we had eight months ago. You were right, I am not an idiot. I saw through Madden, that glorified Ponzi schemer the second he uttered a word. No, I needed a convenient way to show why Lexcorp's balance sheet wouldn't show a profit for the first time in years. You see, Miss Lane, six months ago I needed an obscene amount of money to finally get rid of Superman."

His casual mention of his name made Lois feel a cold, sharp shock in her chest. She put her hand in her pocket, found the JLA emergency signal and pressed the button.

"How to trap a man who can see atoms frolick in Jupiter? It required a bit of planning, because his powers would tip him off in case there was a trap. Everything had to be perfect. He'd have to be lured to an emergency so dire that his other powers would need to be focused on the task at hand, and thus unable to alert him. Throw in a few good-natured scientists working in a doomed space station, toiling for the betterment of mankind and…" he shrugged. "you know the kryptonian is a sucker for that kind of thing."

"…the fall of the Shooting Star. That was his last confirmed sighting."

"Exactly." He pressed the elevator button and the doors opened. "After you."

"I got the Shooting Star a few years ago, after a couple of mergers. Lexcorp needed another orbital lab and it was cheaper to take over the company than to ordering them to build me one." He pressed the only button in the elevator and it moved downwards.

"Once I had the lure, I worked on the trap. It took some work and I had to…dispose…of several scientist and minor criminal masterminds to procure a working red sun lamp. The cheapest part of the operation was a eight-inch thick steel booth. My people put the red sun lamp inside a lead-lined box, to be activated when the doors closed. The booth was taken to the Shooting Star and installed over the likeliest place someone would use to shore it up…in case happened to fall from orbit."

"You didn't…"

Lex arched an eyebrow. "He's been missing for months, remember?"

She looked into his sinister eyes and shivered. "Now where was I? Oh, yeah…the trap. Booth installed, engines sabotaged and down it goes. It was pretty dramatic to see the station plummet down to Earth…a fiery ball about to hit Metropolis when out of the blue the kryptonian sap flies to the rescue. He maneuvered himself into position and the booth got him. After that, I think the emergency thrusters made it splash on the nearby ocean and no-one suspected he never flew away."

"But the red sun lamp wouldn't have time to take all his powers. He would…"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I forget to mention that Metallo's kryptonite heart was also inside the booth?"

"You bastard."

"The Shooting Star crashed somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean and my people brought the booth to this lab." He recounted with relish as the elevator doors opened. "His brain surgery took my team of surgeons eighteen hours to complete."

He walked out. Lois Lane did not move, unable to believe what she just heard.

"Miss Lane? I got the video if you want it." Lex said as he popped back into the elevator. "For now, come on…down the corridor, to the right."

"You see, we could not go willy-nilly into his brain and cut-cut-cut, much as I would've liked; that's why it took so long. But once I had the kryptonian under anesthetics I wasn't going to let him recover. Not now, not ever."

"Of course, I had the pleasure of beating seven shades of shit out of him during the first week. Then I had some of my men join in the fun. Nothing that would permanently damage him, no, but enough to let me release a lot of pent-up pressure." He smiled as Lex stopped to use the fingerprint/retinal scanners of the massive door that barred their way. "This carried on for 9 days. On the tenth day, when he wept like a baby at the mere sight of me, I knew he was broken."

"Those uncomprehending eyes, the gaze of a man who has no idea why he is in so much pain, but he's completely unable to prevent it as I hit him again and again."

"The Man of Steel will never rise again."

Lois walked out of the corridor and into a brightly lit chamber, barely saying a word. "Once that was out of the way, I turned him over to my teams of scientists. They studied him twenty four hours a day, seven days a week for two months. When that was over, I knew everything there was to know about kryptonian physiology. That's when we really started to bleed Lexcorp dry."

They entered a large computer room with three walls covered in monitors, diagrams and charts. The other wall had a large two-way mirror, covered with a curtain. Next to the mirror were eight chairs in disarray. In one corner there was a locker and a rather big helmet. You could tell this room had been designed for at least 20 people working simultaneously and it had seen a lot of use. Seeing it empty made it seem more sinister than it was. It smelled of chlorine and Lois, a veteran of several crime scenes, could see the faint traces of hastily-wiped blood.

"I could cover up most of what we invested in this project, but no amount of book-juggling would cover our real expenses. 4.2 billion was a sum I could not cover in any way, so it got leaked to the press. The creation of a chip that would enable a computer to interface with a kryptonian brain and the development of software to actually control it cost us another 6 billion dollars. I even had to invent supercomputers to handle the stress. But after that was said and done, I could control him completely."

"You…" Lois managed to whisper "You have no idea…"

"Do sit down. I'm saving the best for last." He motioned to a chair. "Once every one of his powers were catalogued, my doctors knew which parts of his brain were useful and which were merely redundant systems. A lobotomy is fine, but I feel much better having sizeable chunks of his brain encased in crystal orbs..." Lois's eyes bulged out at this. She remembered Luthor toying with something in his office. Sensing this, Luthor drove the point home. "I tell people it belonged to Einstein."

He walked towards the locker and opened it. He took a black bodysuit from it and put it on.

"He's not coming back, Lois, you have to believe me. His higher functions are gone, his major brain centers and my computer interface almost perfectly and I can engage 98% of his powers. Really, super ventriloquism? I'll stick to the Superman Combo Pack."

"Now I had a dollar deficit that could sink several world nations and I've never liked to see my company's financial reports in red ink, so I started to see what uses I could have for that hollowed out shell."

"Controlled exposure to red sun rendered him powerless and we discovered that re-exposure to yellow sunlight made his parts recover their powers. And his healing powers were second to none. We saw many possibilities."

Lex adjusted the bodysuit and closed a few buckles and zippers. "For instance, we could fully skin him in 90 minutes and in 2 day his epidermis grew back, leaving us with completely bulletproof skin, lighter than leather. I've been supplying them to the military for their new light armor-heavy assault tanks, because nothing short of a nuke can put a dent on them."

"His fingernails and toenails take longer to harvest, but they can also be used as a scale-mail bulletproof vest. We've been marketing them LexVests and they make money hand over fist. I have uses for all of his teeth, especially the canines for the oil industry, and the kicker is that they grow back! Splinters from his nails are used to cut diamonds, his hair is an amazing element, stronger than titanium…I could go on and on…"

He took the helmet under his hand and went to the bank of computers to turn them on. The screens shimmered to life as Lex put on the helmet and thumbed a remote control. "But our biggest money-maker was a stealth satellite I sold to Uncle Sam for an obscene amount of money. It has x-ray and telescopic capabilities, plus the ability to convert sunlight into a deadly hot beam that can carve the wings off a fly. They offer me more money than I could possibly spend if I build them another one…but not right now. I'm still waiting to see if the eye grows back."

"N-no…Lex, even you couldn't be such a bastard…"

"Miss Lane, I don't care what happens to the cow, as long as I can wear a perfectly good belt." The bodysuit hummed to life as Lex walked around with it. Lois could hear movement in the room next door, but was unable to see beyond the curtain. "But if you want to see the cow, just go through that door."

Lois thought it was a trap, a con, a horrible joke. Lex Luthor couldn't have bested Superman, could he?

She walked to the door, unsure, unsteady…full of dread…something in the back of her mind telling her not to go, not to see…

But once she took the final step into that room, her world crumbled apart. The room was bathed in red sunlight and Superman was strapped to an upright bed. His uniform was long gone and so was his trademark spitcurl…Clark was completely bald, and several parts of his body were covered in nasty scabs and scar tissue. His left eye was an empty socket and several of his fingers bled, but his right eye looked straight at her. "You'll have to excuse him for his appearance but we had a harvesting session earlier." The curtain was pulled back and Lois could see Lex standing there, in the strange suit.

"This is the suit that allows me to control him." He said as he moved his arm in mock salute. Superman's hand tried to move, but the restraints held it in place. Luthor touched a button on his remote control and the red sunlight dimmed and flickered off as yellow sunlight lamps came to life.

"Let's try that one more time." He moved his arm and Superman's arm ripped off the restraints. "Much better." He walked forward and Superman lunged towards Lois. She had felt his embrace many times and it was never anything more than caring and loving…she never knew how hard Clark worked to make invulnerable skin feel soft to the touch…Lex Luthor had no such restraint, no such knowledge: she felt a sharp pain on her side and the air was squeezed out of her lungs as when arms more powerful than a locomotive nearly crushed the life out of her.

"Lex, what.._augh_…what are you doing?"

"Miss Lane, you'd hardly think I'd explain my masterstroke and let you get back to _The Planet_." He said as he took off the helmet and placed it on the desk. "By the way, the JLA signal was blocked the minute you entered the building. During those 9 days the man of zinc managed to disclose an awful lot of secrets."

"Now, I knew you'd be looking for him and I knew you'd eventually come to me when it was obvious that he wasn't gallivanting through the galaxy or in another dimension. I wanted to see you crawl to my office and beg for the slightest chance to know what had happened to poor old Clark."

It took her a second. "C-clark? Oh, God, you know…"

"Jonathan is already dead and Martha is going to follow him soon. It'll be a glitch in the military's spy satellite system…but that's neither here nor there. Mrs. Kent…you decided to shack-up with this alien and even make a travesty of our ceremonies by marrying him…well, I didn't want to let you die without giving him a chance to say goodbye to you. Call me a romantic, but I wanted you two kids to have a final embrace." Contempt dripped from his voice.

"L-lex?" Lois says as she tried to break free from Superman's arms.

"Feel free to struggle, but once he's charged up, he can squeeze diamonds out of coal." He folded the bodysuit and placed it inside the locker. "I'm afraid our time today is up, but I'll be back tomorrow to check up on you two."

With that, Lex Luthor left the room and closed the door.

The next day, Lex entered the room and everything was like he left it. Superman still stood, his arms still embraced Lois and she looked like she had spent the worst night in her life. "How are you two holding up? There's still a spark between you two?"

Lois's lips were parched and her head was pinned to the side, the pressure of Superman's arms rendered her unable to turn. "…they'll…they'll find you…Perry…Jimmy…know I came…here…" Her voice was strained and hoarse.

"Yes, and you also left, around 3:00pm yesterday. You see, I employ a Lois look-alike and yesterday her job was to leave my building, board a cab and be taken away. I have security camera footage of it and I got my '_I'm __sorry officer but whatever Miss Lane did after she left Lexcorp is her own business' _line down pat."

"And now I got a meeting with the Japanese. I'll see you tomorrow."

Lex returned the day after and sat next to her, talking and gloating, showing her videos of the Superman sessions, enjoying watching Lois fade away. He was on the third viewing of the day of his super-breath demonstration when he noticed she was dead.

He went to the control room and shut down the yellow sunlight lamps. He had his employees take away her body for disposal and he decided he'd skip the next skinning session. Pressing business. As his people got to work, he looked at the kryptonian's face and was surprised…was that a tear he saw in his eye? "_Can't be,_" Luthor thought. "_his brain is gone. It must be a trick of the light._"

Once he was back in his office, he got a call from Happersen. He claimed the flaws in the Golden Argosy's system had been corrected and he requested the kryptonian to be interfaced with it for a test flight. A success there meant that the plane would be ready within the next quarter.

After that, who knows? There were a lot more uses he could find for what once was his worst enemy.

Truly he was the man of tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

I know what happened to the Man of Tomorrow.

Lex Luthor was not a man to leave things to chance. That day when his men collected Lois's body, he thought he saw a tear in the kryptonian's eye. He ordered new brain scans and reviewed them personally. They showed no change: the physical blocks in the brain were still there.

He was satisfied, but still kept an eye on him. He witnessed a few more skinning sessions, and he felt something was amiss. He ordered more scans, but they showed no change. The feeling of uneasiness lessened, but it still lingered.

It had been a few weeks since the tear incident and Lex Luthor was in an early meeting.

"…as we can increase the profit margin by 7%..."

_Was it a trick of the light? _

"…we should be able to pull it off; we have the capital to take over…"

_Was it a tear? _

"..garding Wayne Enterprises, we're just waiting for the…."

_Did I miss something? _

"We're going to have to deal with Wayne eventually."

_Are the scanners wrong?_

Harrelson said. Ambitious young man, but he still lacked sense.

Luthor decided it was time to end the meeting. "Go ahead. I want Wayne Enterprises in my hands by the end of the week. And Wayne, that ineffective fop?" Luthor countered. "He can come after me whenever he wants. I can beat him in any boardroom. Gentlemen, is that all?"

There were a few more things on the agenda, but his tone did not invite them to press him to stay. "Nothing else, Mr. Luthor, we can handle it."

"See that you do." Lex stood up and left the boardroom. He took his personal communicator from the suit pocket and dialed the laboratory. Markinson picked up after two rings.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor."

"Tell me about today's brain scans."

"They're normal, Mr. Luthor. The higher-function dam is still blocking the equivalent of the inferotemporal cortex and the temporal and the middle temporal lobe, keeping them apart."

"Do you have the brain scans in your hand?"

"um, no, Mr. Luthor, I…"

"Do not dare to conjure from thin air whatever figures you _might_ remember."

Lex heard Markinson sit up, heard papers and ledgers hit the floor as he frantically opened and closed drawers. "I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor, I'll get right on to it…let's see…ah, here they are…yes, I can see the block…there's a bit of brain tissue trying to encapsulate it, but nothing to worry about."

"Same as always. Did you run the scans?"

"Um..no, sir. Pratt did."

Lex's voice turned icy. "Pratt?" He all but spat the name. "Protocol requires you run the scans. _You._ I should know that, because I _wrote the damned protocol!"_ A beat. "Have you been running the scans?"

"Sir, I've…"

"When was the last time _you _did a scan?"

Markinson gulped. "Three weeks ago…"

"You idiot. Red sun the kryptonian and run a scan _right now_."

"But sir, we have a full skin session tomorrow and he's still healing."

"I know that, you imbecile. Right now he's getting to 45% solar power, which means he's very powerful and healing at a _faster_ rate. And we only have him at that power level because he's supposed to be incapacitated. But we don't know that, do we? Right now his brain could be overcoming the blocks." Luthor finally reached his office and walked to the private elevator. "Right now Superman could be _knitting his brain together_. Do you really want to be there when a pissed-off brain damaged Superman wakes up?"

Markinson's voice dropped a few octaves. "Right away, Mr. Luthor."

"Red sun him, now! I'm on my way." He ended the call and pressed the button in his intercom.

"Hold my calls, Pearl. I'll be looking over a merger proposal."

"Yes, sir." The doors closed and the elevator went down.

After a few moments, he felt a tremor.

_This building is designed to withstand earthquakes and hurricanes combined. My building does not shake. _His communicator bleeped an alarm code.

"Shit." He pressed his palm against the wall and his palm print was scanned, popping a panel open. From it He extracted a gun from it, checking the sights and power source. A reassuring red beam flashed the confined space.

_Fat lot of good this will do if this is Scenario One._

The trip from the office to the laboratory took no more than forty seconds and he reviewed the security measures: if he was still strapped on the gurney in the carving room, he would drop 200 yards down to the red sun maze, where his security detail would be on hand with Tasers and red sun guns to neutralize him behind lead-lined, reinforced concrete walls. Performance reviews claimed they could contain a 20% Superman in 90 seconds and a 30% in 600. Anything over 40 and all bets were off.

The building shook again, this time harder. _If_ he was still in the carving room. Lex felt the adrenaline kick in as he buttoned up his coat and assumed a firing stance.

The elevator doors opened and an acrid smoke wafted in. Alarms blared and the emergency light flickered on and off. The corridor was empty and the massive door had holes in odd angles that belched smoke and bled incandescent tears. Luthor recognized it for what they were: heat vision blasts. The keyboard was still working and his code swing the door open. The smoke reduced visibility to almost zero. He grabbed one of the breathing masks from the fire station and moved on.

The smoke grew thicker as he entered the viewing room and saw why: scorch marks glowing dimmer and dimmer crisscrossed the walls and ceiling. There were shapes on the floor and he crouched to have a closer look. They were the bodies of Markinson, Rivers and Pratt, the room's morning shift. Markinson's head had been sheared off by the heat beam, the wound instantly cauterized. Rivers and Pratt had been sliced from left to right. _You killed them. This is priceless. One more thing I made you do. _

The safety glass was shattered, with parts either melted outright or completely gone. The monitors were dark and the computers sparked, useless. The data was lost, he was sure, and he'd have to go to yesterday's backups.

Lex walked to the carving room and saw that the gurney had retreated to the bottom floors, leaving a round hole. Next to it was a piece of the restraints…the other was embedded on the ceiling, next to more scorch marks. The sound of his own breathing and visibility reduced to less than eight feet had him on edge, but his hand holding the red sun gun remained steady. Three burly security guards were on the floor. Their clothes were smoking, but the beams did not reach the skin, thanks to their LexGuard vests. He grinned. _Blocked by your own skin, alien. _The guards were alive, but unconscious. One of the guards' face looked like it had been pounded with a steel ball…_with knuckles._

Muffled sounds came from the hole, where Lex could see that lip had four drag marks that clawed the metal like it was nothing. He took a peek down the well…it was supposed to be lined with red sun lamps, but a significant number of them were broken in a vertical pattern. _Looks like he grabbed hold of one side and broke the lamps as he went down. _

He needed to walk through a 50 feet long corridor, all twisted and bent into odd angles, and get into the elevator that went down to the maze. Along the way he saw one of the female technicians, huddled in a corner, arm around her legs and forehead to her knees. He tapped her on the shoulder. She all but jumped at his touch and gazed at him with red-rimmed eyes. "he…he…"

Lex saw her right arm was horribly mangled and her voice was a hoarse whisper. "Go to the medical bay. I'll deal with him." He moved on.

The elevator took him down to the maze.

The red sun maze was an expensive measure, designed to work if, and only if, a massive set of errors and oversights allowed the kryptonian time to recover. All the security measures, all the scans, the system checks, the physical inspections were set up to keep them ahead of the healing curve. If that failed, the maze's purpose was entirely to weaken him enough for recapture.

_Well, there might be the chance that I underestimated how fast his healing can get._ He arched his eyebrows. _Don't kid yourself, Lex: that was a major miscalculation. Fed by bad data. Heads will roll._

Red light filtered in after the doors opened. He was in one of the utility corridors deep within the 30,000 square foot underground complex he hoped would never need, but was grateful he didn't spare the expense. He jogged to the control room, feeling another tremor rock the corridor and saw plaster dust fell from the ceiling.

The control room's security door opened and he entered the only place in the maze where color was allowed. Every inch of the room was covered by monitors, showing every nook and cranny of the maze. In front of them was the operator, speaking softly to a microphone, receiving panicky transmissions and working over cries of pain and anguish.

"Team 7, take a right, then a left and fire from walkway Q-9. Team six, do you copy? Team one, status."

"What's the situation?"

"For God's sake, Stevens, shut up and walk to sick bay. Stay off channel unless you got eyes on him." He sighed. "Not good, but improving. He tore through our nets and powered his way through several choke points. Severely damaged one of the support columns and banged the secondary garrison good. Teams 1, 2 and 5 are disabled; 3 scattered and 4 hooked up with 7 and 8. Six is MIA; could be he destroyed their radios." He looked at him sideways. "Sir, we thought if he ever landed here, he'd be lukewarm at best, but he's red hot."

The operator was an expert hunter; a military man with battlefield experience. He ran containment scenarios over and over, until his team could perform them in their sleep. That many teams in disarray meant serious trouble.

"What are his readings?"

"He came down at close to 60%."

"What? He wasn't supposed to be an iota above 49%. Ever."

"Just telling what I got, boss. I knew our systems can't handle 60% Sup; not without green K." He pressed a few buttons and said "_Boogie incoming, T-8 and eager for Crisco_." The monitor showed the guards tossing several grenades around a blind corner and huddle up. The grenades exploded and the entire corridor was coated in a viscous substance. The guards fired their stun weapons at the substance and it carried the paralyzing discharge through the corridor until it hit Superman. The red sun lamps kept glowing, slowly draining him of his powers. The readout on the screen showed he was at 31% and dropping.

"I turned the red juice to eleven when he hit the deck: that took out one helluva big chunk of his reserves. He tried to fly up, but the vertigo field messed his inner ear and he augered. He got angry and smashed the floor and fell to deck 2, where he disabled team 1. We pinballed him to deck three, but he bent the restraints and tore loose. We're taking him to the Womb."

"The one on the third level?" Luthor saw display whittle down to 28%. "They're on the wrong side of the complex."

"He's done enough damage to the corridor that a few charges will drop him within swiping distance of the fourth level Womb. Hold on, sir, 'cause if he drops under 20%, the fall rattle him, but the Swipe will put the hurt on him. Teams 8 and 9, charges ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Lock harpoons and weights. Fire!"

Around the sides of the corridor where Superman lay, flailing and twitching under the Tazers, horizontal panels dropped and the guards fired the harpoons. The tips were stunted and had a large vial, which shattered on impact, covering Superman with an adhesive substance. The harpoons had ropes attached and the glue helped them get purchase on the glistening skin of the kryptonian. He moaned in pain and screamed in anger at the cameras

**LOOOOO..THAAAAWWWRRR….**

One of the monitors flickered and went dark.

Another person would have felt a chill go down their spine, but not Lex. He grinned at the foolish kryptonian using his heat vision to deny him a camera.

"Sweet, sir. That cost him 2% of his overall juice." Switching to another angle, they saw the guards drag Superman to the end of the corridor.

"Team 10, ready for containment. Swiper will engage in 15."

"Team 7, on my mark detonate the charges. Teams 8 and 9, ready drag him to the hot zone. Drag….good…3, 2, 1, mark."

The screen flashed red and the kryptonian went down the hole. The display read 21%. "That was close, sir. Engaging the Swiper."

In the row of monitors corresponding to the fourth level, they saw Superman fall hard to the ground, among broken pieces of concrete and rebar. He coughed and tried to stand. He shakily rose to his knees when the Swipe, a massive concrete wall pushed him into the Womb. It had a long, scientific and purposeful name, but the boys in security had dubbed it the Womb. It was a round chamber, roughly 60 feet across, completely filled with a gelatinous substance that hindered movement and had every inch covered with red sun lamps. The door heavy closed and was bolted shut.

"11-ball is on the pocket, boys. Lock, load and converge on the fourth level. We're in the home stretch..."

The display read 18%, then 17% as they saw Superman struggle in the substance. Like wet sand, it moved when he moved and filled the space around him, denying him purchase or leverage.

"16 percent…12 percent…9 percent…5 percent….switching lamps to low level….draining the Womb…Cap Team stand down. Med Team stand by for recovery… 1 percent, sir. We have him. Opening access door…"

Luthor smiled as he saw them strap Superman to the gurney and wheeled him out. "It was touch and go for a minute, sir, but this actually helped me to spot the flaws in our scenarios. I'll have the boys running new drills first thing tomorrow morning."

"There'll be a bonus for all of your men, Wilson. Carry on."

The following weeks had Lex's spin doctors working overtime. Families of the deceased had to be compensated, millions in hush money had to trade hands and a suitable story for the media had to be concocted: a disgruntled employee had sabotaged the emergency generators and rigged them to blow. Unfortunately the man had died in his attempt and Lex vowed to never let another senseless tragedy like that happen again.

He also confirmed the cause of the escape attempt: Pratt had taken upon himself to save LexCorp a few thousand dollars by only doing one of the seven scans required and falsified the notes in the reports. Or maybe he was lazy. Or maybe he was in league with the kryptonian supporters. The press had caught up to the fact that he had disappeared and ran editorial after editorial on how he was missing, mewling like newborns.

In any case, it didn't matter why he did it: Lex pinned the blame on him and the media ate it up.

His new science team delved into the kryptonian's brain once again and the results were not encouraging: his brain simply recovered faster than the lobotomy could keep him under. Soon, there would be no physical way to keep him under.

Tyler, the new head of the science division, sent him a very interesting report in that regard: he was suggesting keeping his brain busy. Data probes showed his storage capacity was in the Zettabyte territory and there was talk about using him as one of LexCorp's massive servers. He could have no personality if he was running billions and billions of operations per picosecond.

Lex kneaded his forehead and laid back on his chair.

…and something just clicked in him mind.

"Pearl, get ahold of my science teams on the phone. Tell them to pack today for very cold weather." He beamed. "I finally cracked the safety measures of the Fortress of Solitude."


	3. Chapter 3

For the man who has nothing

From inside the climate controlled headquarters at Site One, Lex Luthor gazed at the fortress. It towered above them, majestic and serene.

The camp had been set up six months ago, a few weeks after they captured _him_. Having the man of zinc was one thing, but plundering his retreat? Discovering the secrets, the technology he had in there? Lex couldn't wait to get his hands on all of it.

It proved to be quite the formidable opponent. The first thing Lex did was to try the silly yellow key in the lock. A special crane was made, with a rotating mechanism to hold and turn the key in the required direction…and it failed.

It was a minor setback, he thought, and he had the not inconsiderable resources of LexCorp at his disposal. People were called, research facilities were built and all sort of methods were tried. The locks held. No amount of force or finesse could open them. He tried to dig through the walls or under the fortress, but each time he failed. The fortress looked like it was made from ice, but at some point it turned into a material so dense that no force on Earth –and he had access to all of them- could scratch them. Not even his most powerful scanners could see through them. Even his special drills found no purchase on the material.

At its peak, Site One was inhabited by over 75 people and had state of the art technology and facilities. Over time, he had to concede defeat and pull his resources back to LexCorp. He left a skeleton crew to keep things running –and arranged to have things return to top efficiency in a moment's notice- in case he got a breakthrough.

That time was now, and he wasn't leaving until he opened the fortress.

"Dr. Tyler, are we ready?"

"They're fitting Captain Holden with the creep suit, sir, but we won't know until everything is in place. They're waiting for the headpiece and the contacts."

_Creep suit._ Luthor chuckled. It was an acronym for the suit that started with Kryptonian Emulation something-something, but "creep" suited Lex just fine.

"It will work." Lex said as he picked up an oddly shaped metallic case and walked to the control room. "Individual pieces held up so far. The flight principle is what keeps the Golden Argosy airborne."

"Yes, sir, but I'm not sure how they'll behave in a gestalt."

"We'll see."

They walked into the prep room, where several scientists were busy fitting sensor and wires to man wearing a skin-colored body suit. It had hundreds of wires over it, branching out like veins. Over that suit, they were fastening pieces of what looked to be pieces of whitish leather armor.

"Captain Holden, how are you holding up?"

"Just fine, sir; the undersuit's hugging me in all the wrong places." A few of the technicians laughed.

"Don't worry; when we pull this off, you won't have to wear it again."

"Thank you, sir. "

Lex placed the metallic case on one of the work tables and opened it. "Holden, do you know why we chose you for this?"

"No, sir."

"You have the right measurements. As you are, your body type and figure is almost like the kryptonian's: you're almost as tall, almost as broad and almost as heavy as he is. A 95% match. All we need is to tweak you just a little bit, cover you in massive patches with his DNA and bio-patterns and we're done. Basically, we're trying to trick an overzealous doorknob to open."

The scientists took more pieces from the workbenches and put them on captain Holden. They had been delicately worked on, each them a remarkable piece, with fastening spots that held them securely to Holden's body. At key points, they were fitted with fiber optic sensors and those were connected to hair-thin wires that hooked to a portable control panel. They assembled them, starting at Holden's feet and they worked their way up.

"You see, I tried it before. Have someone wear the suit and float to a pre-arranged spot to see if it passes muster and opens the door. I tried look-alikes, latex masks and holographic projectors. Nothing worked." He paused. "But a few days ago I realized he would have keyed the sensors to his bio-signature. And hey, I can have a suit made to test the theory."

Lex took out a pair of long-sleeved gloves and gave them to Holden. "I had to leave the Department of Defense on hold for a few days to assemble this." If Holden was squeamish about the gloves, he made no comment. He put them on and the helpers fastened them to the torso piece, which ended past the shoulder, but before the elbow.

"I tested the pieces: you should be completely insulated from the weather, you'll have level 9 invulnerability and with the sun burst, you'll even manage to hover up to the ID spot." He went to the work table and grabbed the last piece from the case. When Luthor turned around, Holden gulped: he was holding in his hands a replica of Superman's face, from the shoulders to the trademark spitcurl. "Don't worry about the eyes; you'll have his contacts."

The helpers fastened the head piece, just like the others, and Holden was completely covered, each part plugged to the control panel.

"How are you feeling, Holden?"

"Fine, sir. Smell's a bit…ugh."

"Right now the suit is there, but it's not functional and it's wrinkled like a cheap suit. Once we plug it in, the suit will assert itself and you may experience some discomfort. It's important that you soldier on until the tests are done."

"I won't disappoint you, sir."

Lex went to the technician working on the control panel. "He's ready."

"We're powering up the suit, Holden, starting at five percent."

The console hummed as it fed yellow sun energy through the myriad of fiber optic cables, arranged with painstaking detail to emulate a kryptonian's circulatory system.

"How're you feeling?"

"No change, sir."

"Ten percent."

The hum didn't increase tempo, but the pieces started to react…a few of the large pieces cracked, slowly.

"Anything?"

"Nope."

"Twenty percent"

"Oh, I felt something move, sir. The torso is tightening a bit."

"Good. Ramp it up to fifty percent, Tyler."

"Yes, sir."

The tempo increased and the pieces seemed to gain a better shape. Lex remembered when he was a kid and could not afford anything, he liked to walk around department stores and see how they wrapped gifts. He recalled one time when the saleslady put an object, a silver photo frame, over a velvet board and covered it with a piece of wrinkled plastic. The lady used a hair dryer to smooth the plastic to perfection. This was something like that.

"Now I'm feeling them come together, sir. Legs are a bit tight and…ow, my arms are getting pinched."

"Make it one hundred percent."

The dials went to the top of the green markings, as pure sunlight streamed through the wires and energized the skin. The contour, the shape seemed to sharpen in focus as every piece clung to Holden's body. The pieces overlapped in some places, but once it touched another, it seemed to remember where it was and where it should be.

"Aaahgh, sir…" Holden's voice was strained. "It hurts, sir. Ow…my back…my legs…I can't move my neck…." And then no voice came out, only a strained groan.

"Holden, relax. Remember your breathing exercises." Luthor said, as Holden's vitals spiked. "Diaphragmal, not thoracic."

A few seconds passed. His moans increased in intensity and his heart rate increased.

"His wrist just shattered…ribs are severely bruised…hairline fractures in the pelvis…femur won't hold on for much longer…"

"You're doing fine, Holden. You're earning your bonus." To Tyler. "The creep suit is complete. Give him the painkillers." Another button was pushed, and a few CC's of analgesic were administered to Holden's bloodstream. His vitals slowly stabilized and the moaning subsided.

"Bring in the tights."

From another container, one of the techs took the red and blue uniform and the others carefully worked to put it on. All the wires needed to feed sunlight to the skin converged at the neck, so they could fit the uniform from the feet up and not disturb the wire network. Fortunately the material could stretch to 200-300% of its original length and it didn't lose shape. The cape was fastened to the shoulders with Velcro. Lex had forgotten how bright it was.

Finally, they glued a small, button-sized speaker on his bottom lip.

"Open the eyes and release the jaw and lips."

The sensors beneath the eyelid twitched and, beneath them, Holden's eyelids blinked rapidly. "Just about it, Holden: time to put in the contact lenses….there we are…now speak if you're ready."

"Good to go, sir." The voice came out strained. His lips were a bit purple, maybe from earlier, because now the face mask allowed him just a tiny bit of wiggle room.

Carefully, Lex put the contact lenses in. "This should work with the retinal scanners. Look everywhere, look at everything around the door, gaze at the keyhole…anything will help."

Holden blinked a few times, as if testing the lenses.

"We're done, Holden. Just relax and let the voice box do all the talking."

Lex contemplated him with approval and a bit of loathing. "Perfect." He fastened his weather gear. "Let's go."

It took them more than an hour to take Holden from Site One to the threshold of the fortress. Dr. Tyler checked Holden's vitals periodically, making sure he wasn't too strained by the suit. Towers had been built against the fortress and a freight elevator raised them up to the landing. The door dwarfed them, imposing.

"Start when you're ready, Tyler."

The doctor activated the console's secondary functions. Holden stood unassisted for a few seconds and then drifted upwards. Lex knew it would work. After all, that was the principle that held the Golden Argosy in the air.

The cape fluttered regally as Holden gained altitude. Lex knew the kryptonian wasn't really there, but the cape brought back too many bad memories. Holden was maybe 20 feet from the keyhole when the console started beeping.

"That is an invisible beam, sir, completely non-harmful."

"The scanner engaged. Cue the voice."

Tyler pressed another button and a voice was heard through the tiny speaker above them.

…_I'm Superman…I love you, Lois…please, stop…damn you, Luthor…my name…my name is Clark Kent…Batman will get you…But I was good! Why are you doing this…I'm sorry…I'm very sorry…_

A completely visible green beam scanned Holden from top to bottom, and a few seconds later, the keyhole rotated on its own.

"It worked."

Noiselessly, the massive door slid open.

"Holy shit, it worked." Tyler enthused. The helpers all but clapped with joy.

Lex merely nodded.

Artic air wheezed past them as the Fortress finally granted them entrance. Inside, lights flickered on. Next to Lex, two dozen commandos wearing state-of-the-art LexCorp gear stood in attention. "Take Holden down and tend to him." He spoke to his earpiece. "Engineers, make sure only we can open and close that door. Science teams, stand-by while we do the security sweep."

They entered the Fortress carefully. Patched via satellite to Metropolis, the troops fed audio and video to Wilson, and he had direct communication with Lex.

"What do you see, Slade?"

"Now that the door is open, the sensors are working just fine." Over Lex's shoulders, several airborne probes flew by, each one in one direction through the fortress. "If there are any traps, they'll let us know."

"I'm beginning to suspect there are none. I'm sure the sap never thought we'd bypass his defenses. " He chuckled. "He probably booby-trapped the keyhole, though. Tell the engineers to be careful."

The insides of the Fortress looked like they were carved out of the ice, but Lex bent down and felt the ground: it was cool to the touch. In fact, the place's temperature was getting warmer. Under his weather gear, Lex started to sweat. He took off his jacket and handed it over, continuing to walk through the hallway.

To the left, a rather heavy-looking ice- door was ajar.

"Lois Lane Room," Lex read. Despite the doors thickness, it was rather easy to pull it open. "Apparently he knew what hinges were for." The squad chuckled.

Inside he found a mannequin of Lois Lane wearing a red dress and an almost complete pearl necklace. On the wall, there was a picture of them flying through the air, Lois in his arms.

_To Superman, with love, Lois._

"Must be from the time when she didn't know." He dictated a note into his LPad. "Low-priority room."

They continued, reaching the next room. Inside was a sports car, with a few spare parts around it, next to a Jimmy Olsen mannequin. The car wasn't painted yet and Lex could see thousands of fingerprint grooves on the metal. "Probably it's not completely road-worthy. Take the car to R&D. Low priority room."

The corridor ended in a sheer drop to a massive hall. Lex's eyes could not take everything in at once: a gigantic statue of a man and a woman holding a world aloft, a transatlantic, a tyrannosaurus rex, metallic portals, displays that were too far away to identify, along with cases, platforms, crystalline formations…

"And not one goddamn set of stairs." Lex spoke into his earpiece. "Bring in the scaffoldings."

Hours later, Lex walked through the ground floor of the fortress while his people assembled hydraulic scissor elevators in order to access the higher and winches with metal baskets, to get to the lower ones. Wilson's flying trap detectors had already given the all-clear, having found no traps or guardians. His security people put red sun flood lamps all over the hall, just in case something kryptonian-powered was there. Wilson chuckled when he told Luthor there were Superman mannequins on one of the higher floors and that the top floor had a strange contraption Wilson couldn't make heads or tails of it.

Lex saw that the place was full of weapons, armors and devices, confiscated by the kryptonian. Around the hall, he had rooms furnished and dedicated to Clark Kent -_hah_-, the Kents, Perry White and The Planet crew, Batman and Robin, a crime computer he built for him…the transatlantic hanging from the roof could not be anything else but the Titanic…._the kryptonian had the gall to steal the Titanic_. _I'll let Robert Ballard know…_ _after my people are done with it._

"This is very sad, Tyler."

"What is, Mr. Luthor?"

"All this…" Lex pointed at the displays. "The tawdry bric-a-brac, collected by an alien that desperately wanted to be human. This is the kind of stuff an old man would think a kid would love to own. Super-secret fortress, stuffed to the gills with unbelievable amazing loot." He picked up a gun labeled Czarnian Death Ray. "This is nothing but a gigantic monument to his ego and his overinflated victories. For instance, what powers this ray? What type of energy it uses? Does it only affect living tissue? What about inorganic materials? Can it vaporize rock? Metals? Wood? What are its uses for construction or demolition? He just hoarded them in his playhouse, because they looked cool when he came to relax."

Tyler arched an eyebrow, just for a second, but Lex caught him. "I know what you're thinking, Tyler. You're thinking I'm one to talk, because Metropolis has a skyscraper in the shape of an L and every other product is named Lexthis or L-that. Well, let me tell you something: that building is full of people working…producing, making deals around the world that affect millions. All the technology I have, I use. If it makes me insanely rich, well, I won't argue with that, but even my armors and death rays are out there, in doses the public can handle. Named after me, sure but they are _there_" He returned the ray to its display.

He saw a chair, bolted in front of a device that held thick sheets of metal, with strange letters carved in them. Some looked like they were made by intense heat, others by relentless pressure. Lex looked at them for a while, seemingly in a trance. "Huh…118 letters…several sounds just like the ones in our language…K is ee, as in _meet_…squiggly line is I, as in _bit_…"

Minutes passed and then he snapped out of his reverie and went to the device's control. A button reset the sheets to page number one and Lex started reading. Before long, he was laughing his head off.

"My word! It's his _diary, _where he put down his innermost thoughts. The most powerful creature in the world and he wrote like an emotional teenager dealing with unrequited love, dashed hopes, dreams and fears." He dictated a note into his LPad. "Write krypto-english dictionary and contact the literary division. See if they can turn this pap into something that can sell."

A voice crackled in his earpiece and it told him the stairs were ready. Lex walked

_Sir? The upper levels are accessible now._

"I'm on my way."

The scissor elevator was next to an unfinished painting of an alien landscaped – _call the art department, see SCI-FI uses-_ and activated the hydraulic lift. He reached the spot where eight Supermen stood side by side. He knocked on the closest one and it sounded metallic.

"Robots, eh?" Lex's scientific curiosity got the better of him. "Duplicates for emergencies…or companionship? Note: re-check the Lois mannequin. High priority. Reverse engineer." He got back to the elevator, to reach the last level.

_Sir, one of the lower levels has a kryptonite vault._

Lex stopped the elevator. "Go on."

_Kryptonite vault, sir. The name's carved on the door. There's all sort of colors here: red, green, blue, white, gold, black, and pink…even one that looks like the Hope diamond._

"Close the vault. Have the HazMat team go over it and once we have the ok, get everyone on it. High priority room.

"Very well, sir."

On the top level of the fortress, there were two items: one was labeled Phantom Zone Projector and the other was a large round screen, labeled Phantom Zone Monitor. When Lex got close to examine it, a few shapes in it coalesced into view.

_Lex Luthor, destroyer of Kal-El, son of Jor-El. We've been waiting for you._

Lex smiled. They even looked like _him._


	4. Chapter 4

There must not be a Superman

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage," Lex said, taking a seat in front of the monitor. "First things first, who am I addressing?"

"I am Dru-Zod." The figure floating in the middle of the monitor approached, covering almost the entire screen.

"Good. How do you know my name?"

"It was uttered many times by Kal-El, mostly in contempt. He projected your image in the floor to ceiling screens of the fortress, where he carved disgusting things with his vision."

"And what did you mean by "destroyer of Kal-El?"

"This is his fortress, designed for him and for those he granted entrance. You being here could only mean that he's dead or incapacitated. All of us here in the Phantom Zone are victims of the abuses of the House of El."

Lex took his LPad and began writing. "How many of you are there?"

"Five. We made the mistake of making an enemy out of Jor-El. I was in charge of Krypton's defenses, when he disabled to stage a coup against our ruling council. We barely repealed him, but he was clever enough to forge evidence against me. I was arrested and condemned here in his stead."

"What about the rest?"

The figures flickered as they floated in and out of view.

"Xa-Du, a physician accused of committing forbidden cryogenic experiments; Va-Kox, a scientist, blamed for creating the Force of Life, a deadly mutagenic; Jax-Ur, sentenced for destroying the kryptonian moon of Wegthor; and Faora, convicted for killing over 32 men." Zod pointed at them. "All those crimes were committed by Jor-El and we were blamed for it."

The shapes nodded, more than a few voiced their dislike for the El's.

"Jor-El could contact us in the Phantom Zone, without the council knowing, and, in exchange for information, he would keep our families out of the Zone."

_Do you think he's buying it?_ The woman said in Kryptonian.

_I'll have this dolt eating out of my hand_ Zod nodded. "She disobeyed and Jor-El dealt with his family."

Lex leaned forward. "He did? Can she speak my language?"

_Reel him in_ Zod said to her. She nodded.

"I had a husband and three sons. I should be grateful that he spared them a planetary death, but they were my family. He was mine. They were mine." She turned around and sobbed.

"Oh, you poor dear," Luthor's voice filled with sorrow.

"You'll have to excuse her. It's been too long and she's still not over it." Faora floated away. "We are wraiths, Luthor, doomed…incorporeal, even amongst ourselves. We thought our chances at freedom died when Krypton exploded, but then Kal-El found us. We hoped he'd free us, but he was even crueler than his father. He tormented us; he mocked us and our imprisonment, delighting in our suffering." He nodded, gravely. "He is the son of our jailer, all right."

"Tell me more about him. Was he here often?"

"Yes. He'd be here at least once a month. More when he had trouble in your world. We say him battered and bruised, coming here to lick his wounds."

"He also came here with his friends, the one with the eagle and the stars…"

"Wonder Woman."

"The man in black, with pointy head and the underdressed child were also here."

"Has anyone else been here since he left?"

"No. A few unanswered calls in the monitors, but nothing else..."

"We saw you when you first attempted to breach the walls." Xa-Du interrupted, "We were cheering."

_Be silent, you imbecile. I have him controlled_ Zod's voice was calm, but firm.

_I'm sorry._ Xa-Du said, retreating.

Zod turned back to Lex. "He speaks the truth: we hoped you'd break the barriers and gain entrance, but that time was not meant to be. "

"How were you aware? Is the monitor always on?"

Zod gave an almost imperceptible pause. "Yes. And the fortress systems logged the attempts." He pointed at a spot behind Lex. "One of the crystal panels in the floors below."

In the background, Lex could barely hear Faora's sobs

"We can give you firsthand accounts of Jor-El's cruelty…his crimes should have put him here long before he sired any offspring."

"That is terrible, Zod." Luthor nodded, sympathetic. "I always knew there was something wrong with Kal-El, but to know the rottenness started long before that?"

"Yes. The El's were known for their science, but few truly saw their ugly side: the greed, the corruption, the evil…" Zod looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Luthor, but we've suffered for too long. We can stay here for days, describing our suffering, but it all boils down to one thing."

"You want your freedom." Lex's aides finally got up to the Phantom Zone monitor and poured him a cup of coffee. Below them, the science teams were busy, cataloguing and accessing their assigned work areas.

"Yes." Zod said, "We understand your concerns, and frankly, we share them. After all, here we are prisoners inside your hated enemy's quarters. Who can vouch for our character?" Zod's voice was full of understanding. "He had plans, big plans, for all of us. Once he figured out how to control us via kryptonite armbands and belts, he would use us to ravish your world. We refused, and since we had no more family for him to use as leverage, we just glared at each other through the vastness of space."

Again, he pointed somewhere behind Luthor. "Check the crystal databanks. I'm sure they say terrible things about us, but take into consideration who wrote them. He had to make it convincing, in order to keep us here. Kal-El blindly or knowingly, followed Jor-El's mandates."

"We're prepared to deal in good faith, Luthor. I will tell you secrets of the fortress, knowledge the kryptonians never dared to put in the crystals, which will make you powerful beyond your wildest dreams. You'll be free to verify everything, of course, and once we've gained your trust, will you consider it enough to let us be free? All we ask is for a star chart and we'll find our place in the stars, far away from your planet. You have my word."

Lex nodded. "My dear Zod, I always negotiate in good faith."

Zod seemed encouraged by this. "In good faith, I will offer you this: we heard you found the kryptonite vault."

"The door was partially open. Darnedest thing."

"Here's what the colors do: red gives us mutations and we revert to normal after 24 hours; green's radiation can kill us, blue is like green kryptonite on our imperfect duplicates; black makes us apathetic…the pink one, we think it was created as a prank…the jewel one kills plant life and the gold makes us a thousand times more powerful. It is very important that you do not expose us to that one."

He took more notes.

"The door was open because Kal-El was working hard on making himself immune to the effects of kryptonite. You'll find his research in the crystal outcropping inside his laboratory, three levels down. His kryptonite-proof suit has the following characteristics…"

Hours passed until an aide approached Lex. "Sir, if I may…they need you in Site One for the Metropolis teleconference."

Lex looked up. "I must have lost track of time." He switched off his LPad. "Zod, you've given me a wealth of material to work with, all in good faith. I have to be honest and say the talks for your release may take some time. I am a powerful man, but even I can't fight City Hall. I have to bring this to my government…hell, to the U.N." His tone of voice became conspiratorial. "But between you and me, I think I can make them see things your way. It'll take me a few days to set things up, but I'll keep you informed."

"Thank you, Luthor. You're a credit to your race."

"In the meantime, can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?"

"There's nothing you can do to help us in this incorporeal world."

"Maybe a TV? There are some pretty good entertainment channels."

"Yes, thank you, Luthor. That would be great."

"I'll see it gets done."

Lex walked out of the fortress and made a beeline for the communications hub in Site One.

"Teleconference to Metropolis."

"Yes, sir."

The screen lit up and, after a few seconds, revealed Pearl's face.

"Good night, Mr. Luthor. How's the weather.""

"Never changes, Pearl. What's the word on R&D? Did they fix the snag in the Chariot?"

"Yes. It was an error in the weight conversion ratio. Lomax says we can have a test within a week."

"Mergers called with the W.E. project?"

"They're keeping B. busy. Now that Lucius is in the hospital, he's had no choice but to be at all those meetings and hearings. We may be able to tie him there for another two weeks. He's not happy about it."

"Good. Keep him on his toes and drown them with minutia. How's the S-Server? We've reached memory capacity?"

"No. We were close, but it actualized itself. Memory doubled almost overnight and we're getting very strange noise on the line."

"Isolate it and send me the data. Get LexComm to Line up anyone with the highest storage needs and sign them up. Get the IRS, DMV, and traffic control…hell, reach out to foreign governments and companies. We offer storage for anything, from fan fiction to telenovelas; the higher definition, the better. I don't care if we slash our prices to the ground: I need that mind busy as hell."

"Yes, sir."

"I need my Null chambers here. I can't hear myself think here and research about to get critical. Ship it as soon as possible."

"Got it, Mr. Luthor. What else?"

"One last thing, Pearl, and I want you to treat it with the utmost care."

"Utmost care?"

"Yes. I need you to schedule me a meeting with the vice president and secretary Simmons. I have a situation here that needs their expert opinions. Get it as soon as possible."

"Will do, sir."

"You're a dear, Pearl."

* * *

"Good morning, Zod. I just came up here to tell you I initiated talks, on behalf of your people, with my government. As soon as I hear anything, I'll let you know."

"Thank you, Luthor. We value your efforts."

"Did you enjoy LBO?" He pointed at the TV. "Depending on the schedule, there's something for everyone"

"It was…entertaining, all right."

"Good, good. Listen, while we wait for the call from my government, I'll be working with my science teams." Lex said.

"Luthor, we've seen you work on good faith, so we are willing to tell you more."

"Really?" Luthor enthused, "mighty nice of you. Sure, I would like to know more about the Phantom Zone."

"You may ask."

"Is everything there incorporeal? You have been floating there since you were sent there?"

"Yes. We are as we were the day the projector transported us. We don't need to eat or sleep, and we don't age."

"Remarkable. How big is the zone?"

"Immense. We spent thousands of days roaming it, trying to find its confines, but found none."

"You said that if I beamed something there, it would be as immaterial as you are."

"Yes. Nothing remains solid in this place."

"So there's no chance of a base or a space station in there?"

"No. There are no buildings here, no resources, and no materials."

"What about devices, transmissions? I mean, if there is a two-way Phantom Zone projector, something _must_ work there."

"We haven't been able to test that. Jor-El never sent anything but his enemies."

"Hum…I like the possibilities of the place. Once you fellows are back in our universe, would you mind if I used it? My people could find a lot of uses for an immense, immaterial zone."

"You're welcome to it. Once we leave it, we'll never look back."

"I'll get my people to analyze the zone right away."

Zod waved to the side and Faora floated into view.

_Are we ready to start?_

Zod nodded. "Luthor, Jax-Ur needs me. Our time here can't get us physically, but it tests your mental fortitude. Jax-Ur is in a bad mental state and I need to calm him down. If you need anything, talk to Faora."

"Godspeed, Zod. May you help your friend feels better."

* * *

The cargo plane from LexCorp arrived earlier, and dozens of workers assembled the Null chamber inside Lex's quarters. When you had an enemy that could see and hear anything, you needed a place where your privacy was guaranteed. The Null chamber was designed to thwart eavesdropping kryptonians, and it was built with special materials that cancelled sound, systems that interfered with electrical currents and, for those prying eyes, lead-lined walls and floor.

Whenever he wasn't in the Fortress, Lex spent his time in there. Mostly, he tinkered with the Phantom Zone Projector.

"Zod?"

"Luthor, any news?"

"I just got word from my government. They will propose your situation on the next Congress meeting. I will redact a brief for the House of Senators and the delegates of the United Nations, addressing your plight and the mistreatments you suffered under Jor and Kal-El."

"And when will they meet?"

"They may meet by the end of the month. I'm trying to speed things up." Zod remained silent. "But I did get a big concession: I arranged for the liberation of one of you."

"One?" Elation and resentment were palpable. "One is a start." Zod said, gravely.

"I just want you to understand one thing: the one released would be under my custody, to remain confined to special quarters in Site One. No powers, at least not at the beginning, but there would be access to the facilities, some entertainment...food, clothes, a shower…"

"Yes…that would be good. Do we get to choose…?"

"Faora," Lex said, with an ingratiating smile, "would you accept the invitation of my government, to be a guest until the situation is resolved?"

The fool opens the door to us. Zod turned to Faora. Go! Humor him, satisfy him if you must. Once his back is turned, release us and we'll burn him to cinders.

"I'll be real again?" Faora said, haltingly. "Able to walk, feel, breathe?"

"That and much more." Lex beamed.

Faora nodded. "I accept."

* * *

The dial read 0% when her head finally materialized on her shoulders. Quickly, the guards retreated, with the Phantom Zone projector, the green kryptonite case and exited the Null chamber. She opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry for the delay in the materialization. The projector's batteries must be running out. We almost lost you"

Her eyes were glassy and she looked very confused.

"Three minutes it took, but you're now all here. I'm sorry for mask, but we wouldn't want you to pick an airborne virus, especially in your weakened condition." He put on a surgical mask. "How are you feeling, Faora?"

She took one step forward and promptly fell to the ground.

"You have to move your feet." Lex said as he helped her up. "There is no more gliding."

She babbled incoherently for a few moments, even after Lex helped her to a sitting position. "Calm down and remember that you speak with your mouth, not with your mind."

Faora looked at him. "Everything is red."

"That would be the red sun lamps, can't be helped."

Her eyes watered. "No, everything is red! I have seen gray for so long…" Her hand brushed the texture of the floor, then her face, her hands… "This is…so…so amazing…this air…this _warmth…_"

Lex helped her up. "And this is only the beginning." He gave her a surgical mask and she put it on.

He walked her around the room and led her to the bed and sat next to her. Lex knew he was safe. There were red sun lamps all over the ceiling, behind inch-thick glass partitions. The furniture was bolted to the floor and even the bedding was tucked to one side of the bed. The bathroom had a sliding door, with the ceiling barely an inch above the threshold. The doors did not open from the inside and they could be made transparent by the flick of a switch. And standing on guard were the toughest roughnecks Wilson could spare.

"I hope you're comfortable."

She put her hand on Luthor's neck and rubbed his shoulder. "I am, thanks, Luthor."

He shook his head. "Ah, Faora, we may look like kryptonians, but our nerve clusters are in very different places."

She withdrew her hand. "What?

"You're looking for a nerve cluster that humans simply don't have." He smirked. "I mean, him, he would be a writhing mass of spasms and aches for a good forty seconds. Me?" He flexed his arm, for show. _You just fixed my shoulder pain_

Faora's eyes flared. His pronunciation was a little off, but it sounded like a native Argonian.

"Let's not get confused, here: I know General Zod is trying to trick me to into releasing him and his cronies so they can take over the world. Military men tend to think that way. Look, I'm serious about my offer. You can be free of the Zone and even work with us in our little projects. If everything goes according to plan, I'll let you live –after I've used the gold K on you. Makes us a thousand times more powerful…Zod should never, ever play poker."

"You didn't talk to your government? What about the general, the secretary?"

"Actors. I have lots of money, a very sharp executive secretary and hundreds of key words for almost every scenario. My organization moves on the go and plans change without a moment's notice."

"I'm kryptonian, same as everyone in the zone. How can you talk about betraying them and not betraying me?"

"It's very simple: you hate them too. You don't want them out of that zone more than I do. All of them may come out with their powers intact and you may fight them, but at some point their numbers will overwhelm you. No, you want those kryptonians dead and, believe me, I can relate."

"You want me dead?"

"My word, no. I hated spitcurl and I'm damned sure I'm not releasing _them._" Luthor said, pointing towards the fortress. "You and I, we can reach an understanding."

Faora nodded. "What do you want?"

"I want you to help me build a device that will purge the Zone free of them. We have a few ideas, but the thoughts of a resident can help steer our efforts."

"You know we can see outside of the zone, right?"

"I do, otherwise you couldn't have known as much as Zod knew." He pointed at the walls. "But this is my Null chamber and nothing gets in or out. And even if they are here, our voices are covered by the noise-cancelling systems, our thoughts by the psy-dampeners and our lips covered by the surgical masks. Don't forget that I've lived the past decade outwitting the most dangerous superhumans on this planet."

"And if I don't help you?"

"Well, there are a few solutions to that scenario. I project you back to the zone and turn the projector into an art-deco lamp." Luthor stood up and walked to the door. "Or we work with a little system. You tell me the truth, you help me out, and you win concessions. You are straight with me and may even win your freedom. You lie to me, you get a strike. Three and you're back into the Phantom Zone. You attack me or my men and you get a bullet to the back of the head."

_May Rao defecate all over you and your family_

"Suit yourself." He buzzed the guards. "I'm going to let you get reacquainted with an old friend."

Faora looked at him, quizzically.

"Hunger."

He stepped out of the room and closed the door.

* * *

Lex spent the following day checking the Fortress's reports and felt something he had not felt in a long time: overwhelmed.

_There is too much material and, truthfully, too few scientists._ He flipped through page after page of preliminary descriptions on weapons, armors, materials and technology. _Most of my people are 100% loyal, and yet I'm spending millions in keeping them silent –and my own reputation helps contain leaks. To fully take advantage of this, I'm going to need three…five times more scientists...and that's being conservative and that won't make a dent on research time, which is going to take years…maybe decades, and one of them will talk. I'm ready if things leak, but I'll need to get them airtight if someone blows this story open._ _Time make sure things are still in motion. _

He spent the rest of the day composing and sending hundreds of emails to an equal number of employees and trusted agents.

He was too busy to check on Zod the next day –he sent some underling to humor him-, but he went to see Faora.

"How are you feeling today?"

She sat up, defiant, but Lex could see her lips were parched. _Go suck Rao's balls_

"All right." He said, his mouth still covered by the mask. "But remember: I know how long it takes to break a kryptonian. My team is just one phone call away."

He left.

* * *

One more day passed and Faora buzzed the guards.

"Feeling cooperative now?"

She nodded.

"Good." He called the guards and they opened the door to deliver a metal case. "Of course, there'll be a few guarantees: you'll wear this belt at all times."

"What's in it?"

"Kryptonite-laced C4, with one of several detonators keyed to my heartbeat. And a few more gadgets you _really _don't want to find out what they do."

She lifted her shirt, baring her midriff and Lex fastened the belt. It closed with a satisfying _click._

"Don't try to take it off or it will detonate. Second, you'll have access to the lab and the facilities, but touch something you're not supposed to or steal anything and its back to the zone."

"Understood."

"And three…this is very important… get more than 20 feet away from me and you explode. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Good. Shower and change. I'll return when you're more presentable."

"But I hunger…"

"Feed my curiosity and I'll feed you."

* * *

When he returned, there was a scent of soap floating in the air. Her hair was damp and it hung in spikes. With the appropriate amount of make-up, she wouldn't be out of place in one of his company dinners. He noticed that her lips were no longer parched, –must have drunk her fill in the shower- but she was still looking weakened.

"Luthor."

"Faora. Are you ready to earn your first meal?"

"Yes."

"Good. It's being prepared. First, no takeover goes as smoothly as this one. Even if I tricked the lock into thinking its master was home, there must have been some defenses. What did I miss?"

Faora broke into a piercing laugh. "Oh, you poor, deluded gnat. You really think _you _conquered this? You think you conquered _him?_"

Lex felt the color drain from his face. "What are you talking about?"

"We've been working on the fortress for years."

"How?"

"We are incorporeal," she pointed at her head, "but our minds…oh, the never stop working. We combine our minds to override everything, from the Fortress's systems to Kal-El himself. Oh, we could barely hold him for two, three seconds before he shut us out and he was on top of things, updating the systems, patching code errors and plugging breaches; he fended off our attacks on his mind by summoning that mighty will of his. But then you called him away…"

"Go on."

Faora crossed her arms over her chest.

"Keep talking."

"Feed me and I'll continue."

"I can…"

"You can try, and I may break like he did, but you want to know right now. One plate."

Keeping his temper in check, Lex complied. His personal cook prepared a standard plate: eggs, sausages, orange juice and coffee, with a side of toast. Faora ate them all, feeling every bite a banquet.

"I remember that day perfectly." She said between mouthfuls. "He was here; working on another remedy for kryptonite poisoning when he got the priority call. A perfect opportunity: he flew into your trap and we sprang into action." She made a maddening pause when she sipped orange juice.

"Mmm…delectable." She licked her lips. "Kal-El was not distracted by the station falling; he _was being the victim of a massive telepathic attack, coming from the minds of Krypton's most depraved criminals_. He could have broken out of your trap in two seconds. _Two!_ We held his mind for five, letting your pathetic kryptonite and red sun trap drain him."

Looking at Lex's distraught face, Faora felt emboldened and pressed on. "We knew you wouldn't kill him. We wanted to see him suffer, to be humiliated, to be in the greatest pain he could possibly fathom. We saw you break him and we rejoiced. And when sliced parts of his brain, we had the perfect pawn to liberate us. We only had to wait for him to be at a decent power level."

"You were behind his escape attempt?" his voice dripped with rage.

"Yes."

"But I held him for months before the attempt and he was frequently at 40% of his powers. What took you so long?"

"Ask your people if they've found a large glass bottle in the rubbish centers under the fortress-it's not glass, not really. It's some polymer invented by Brainiac. It held the bottle city of Kandor, the jewel of Krypton. It's a smoking ruin now, and it was taken away by the fortress' cleaning robots, back when they were working. Tell your men to check their feet…there's probably traces of tiny Kandorians smeared on them."

She grinned. "We did you a favor, really. Kal-El had a lot of fanatics in Kandor and they had a little club called the _Superman Emergency Squad_. They tried to escape the Krypton-like conditions of the bottle, gain powers under the yellow sun and rescue him. We couldn't have that, so we fought them. We short circuited the tiny atmosphere facilities and we kept sabotaging until the air was too rarefied; we overloaded their energy buildings, made their weapons packs explode…men burned and it was glorious…." She closed her eyes for a moment. "A few managed to escape and we used the defenses of the fortress to fend them off."

"It was a costly war," she drained the coffee in one gulp. "They fried most of the Fortress's defenses and they smashed all the robots…it was the height of surrealism watching a robot Superman being cut in half by a tiny heat vision beam and then see a tiny robot swarm swoop in, fix the exterior good as new and store it on the second level. I think the repair bots collapsed fixing the last robot and they were swept away by the sweeping drones. Of those, one or two remain, but even if we cracked their systems, they'd be useless."

"Why?"

"They just sweep the main floor and we're…heh, we are three levels up. Stupid Kal-El."

She shrugged. "The Fortress was all but useless, and all we could do was focus again on Kal-El…"

Lex smiled. "But after your first attempt, I overhauled the security systems. Between the Zettabytes of information, the low power levels, guards and the redundancies that can be repaired in seconds, this deluded gnat has crushed all your efforts."

Faora blinked a few times and looked around, erratically. Lex fixed his tie and cuffs.

"Well, I see that the anesthetic is working. Don't worry. It'll be over soon."

"But I thought…I was going to help you…build the device for the Phantom Zone…"

"Oh, I can do that on my own. Like I said, I had several plans in motion when I saw there were about fifteen kryptonians in the Phantom Zone: the revenge angle, the romantic gambit, the carrot and the stick, Spanish Prisoner, Good Lex/Bad Tyler…and I dropped them when circumstances rendered them irrelevant."

"I found a way to delay the transition from the Zone to our world. I couldn't risk if you had powers, even for two seconds. It took about three minutes for you to fully reappear and by that time, you were drained."

"My men found the rubbish bins where the robots and Kandor were stored, around the time you materialized. We have time, we're going to work on the Fortress to repair the systems and we will unlock every secret there is to know. As you can imagine, the Zone-Kill beam is top priority, because I don't want a bunch of meddlesome ghosts trying to undo my good works."

"Then…why…spring…me?"

Lex's smile vanished. "Because you morons fried the surveillance systems and all the recordings were destroyed. I just wanted to hear from the horse's mouth what happened. Now that I know, you have outlived your usefulness. Well, not quite."

"..no…"

"Yes. There have been complaints about the vests used by our female demographic. 'Unflattering figure', can you believe it? Fashion over function, but then again, I'm nothing if not customer-oriented. And luck would have it, here's a kryptonian female with a nice figure."

She started to drift away when they brought in the steel box.

She opened her eyes once, twice and then opened them no more.

It was a few days later when Lex Luthor finally returned to Metropolis. He personally saw Faora being placed in a new facility, with even tougher security measures. In his office, he had stacks of reports from his R&D teams to review: the Zone-killer beam was coming along nicely and the first projections of fortress-related technology were encouraging. Meetings scheduled with CEO's, governors, presidents…his Antarctic holiday left him with piles of work that threatened to overwhelm him.

Suddenly, he heard a dull thud. He swiveled his chair around, to face the panoramic window, with the view of Metropolis he absolutely loved.

He saw something adhered to the outside of the window. It was a yellow oval with a black shape all over it.

A message in red letters read,

_GOTHAM TOWERS_

_MIDNIGHT_

_COME ALONE_


	5. Chapter 5

The Dark Knight Under Metropolis

"Well, well…" Luthor said as the message outside his window dissolved. He tried to spot Batman swinging away through the buildings, but he was unable to. He walked back to his desk and buzzed Pearl. There was no answer.

He buzzed her again. "Pearl?"

No answer. More puzzled than livid, Lex walked to the door and opened it, finding Pearl's chair empty. He walked past her desk and into the outer offices. One of the five year associates walked past. "Ramone, have you seen Pearl?"

"Mr. Luthor?" he blanched. "N-no, I haven't seen her."

Sensing her opportunity to make an impression, Diana Calhoun all but jumped from her cubicle. "She ran out of the office, not five minutes ago. She was talking on her phone."

"Did she say where she was going?"

"Family emergency, Mr. Luthor, and she sounded really worried."

"Well played, Brucie." Lex muttered under his breath. "I like perceptive people, Diane. How would you like to talk about your latest projects? I'd be happy to hear more about them."

"Why, Mr. Luthor, I'd be delighted."

"Call me Lex." He gave her a card, all smiles. "We'll set something up."

He returned to his office and closed the door. He took his cellphone and dialed the first number._ Hope you used your prep time wisely, Batman. I've had months to use mine. _He got an answer on the second ring.

"Carter? Status."

"Just a moment sir," He heard papers shuffling in the background and a not-quite-frantic keyboard tapping. "Scanners are fine, no extra foot traffic, no break-ins, no alarms tripped."

"Good. Code Black."

"Black, sir? But we've had no…"

"Precisely."

"Right away, Mr. Luthor."

Several dozen phone calls and Code Black notices were exchanged during the next 40 minutes, when a welcoming sight crossed his office door.

"Pearl!"

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Luthor." Her mascara looked hastily reapplied and her eyes were still puffy. "I received a call saying that my mother had been run over in Shuster Lane and I didn't have time to …but it was just a prank, Lex… a cruel, heartless prank." She took the handkerchief Lex provided and dabbed her eyes. "My mother is fine…she was with my aunt and when my mother's phone didn't answer, I called my aunt and they were together. They're having tea and scones at Swan's Café." She looked angry and apologetic at the same time. "When I get my hands on…"

"Don't worry, Pearl. I understand family must always come first. Now…have a cup of tea, relax and when you're ready, I need you like I need my legs. We got a Code Black."

She blinked, her anger forgotten and her professional demeanor reinstated. "C-code Black? I'll have the tea sent to me, sir. Where are you up to?"

"Page six. We should be at ten by now."

"I'll get right on top of it, Mr. Luthor."

"See that you do."

Half an hour later, Lex's phone rang. "Mr. Luthor, this is Sansweet."

"What do you have?"

"Sir, we picked up some chatter to the Belfry, doing the usual run around the net before disappearing."

"Expected. We know who receives. What was sent?"

"A jpg. It was encoded all to hell and it defeated everything we threw at it, until we gave it a whirl with the, _heh_, super computer. It's blurry and taken from a tiny camera held around hip level…but it's our facility, all right."

"What's the picture showing?"

"A right arm."

He smiled. "Good. Call the labs and upgrade them to Code Red." He checked his watch. It was half past one. "Have all the LexWings ready to take off before 14:00. We're cutting it short."

He grabbed his personal communicator and dialed. It didn't ring more than once.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor?"

"Wilson, are your men ready?"

"Locked and loaded."

"Perfect. We leave in ten minutes." He hung up. "Pearl?"

"Yes, Mr. Luthor?"

"Confirm my dinner reservations. Tell them I'll be there between 9 and 9:20 pm."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

It was close to midnight in Gotham City. The high-profile Top Hat room, one of Gotham's most prestigious spots, was bustling with activity. The sounds of music, laughter, carousing and two hundred pair of feet stomping to the latest dancing fad. On the roof of the western Gotham Tower, in the myriad of shadows on the roof…nothing stirred.

_You think he's coming?_ A female voice sounded reassuringly in his ear.

A completely innocuous shadow never moved, but a throat mike picked up a whisper with surprising clarity.

_Maintain radio silence._

_Baldville was a hornet's nest today. Lots of people coming in and out, terabytes of chatter out of every source…no eyes on Cueball He had dinner reservations at 9, but no-one in his usual haunts reported his presence._

Almost a full minute of silence went by when he answered "_Shh_."

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, a man crawled through a waste pipe. It was barely wider than he was, and at some points, he had to compress his frame in order to wiggle through, but he kept going forward. His elbows, knees and shoulders were battered and bruised –and the thin mesh suit did its best to keep his skin from scrapping against the sandpaper-like walls, but he advanced inch by inch.

Tied to his foot was a tether line, attached to a bag full of equipment. The tunnel was pitch-dark and the stench was almost unbearable, but his smallish cowl compensated for the zero-light environment with state-of-the art sensors and lenses and his nose filters cleaned the air the best they could. He had memorized the plans from the extremely hard to find blueprint of the Cmelak bottling plant, lost in the industrial sector of Metropolis. Through long hours of work, investigation and extrapolation, he discovered that the old steam tunnels lead to an ordinary and seldom used maintenance area that, after a few strategically placed ounces of C4, could be used to access the waste ducts of the Koul-Brau Brewery. This was a subsidiary of Good Food Groups, which after several twists and turns of the corporate landscape, were part of the LexCorp family.

He reached the end of the pipe, and it continued upwards, at a punishing 90° angle, which meant he had arrived. He rolled to his back, fired the grapple gun to the top of the duct and, rather painfully, managed to get his body past the bend and climb upwards. The pipe opened to a bigger area, right under a heavy iron grate. He used a telescopic mirror to look for alarms and mercury switches. He found and disabled three of them and then used a laser to cut the grate and climb out of the tunnel.

He unfastened the tether line, opened the bag and put on the rest of his suit, feeling more and more complete as he covered his hands, feet and body with boots, gloves, cape and cowl. He looked up, dramatically, with his fists balled, hanging close to his waist.

When that little ceremony concluded, he took a vial from his belt and sprayed himself from head to toe with a scent-eraser. After crawling through those filthy pipes, superhuman levels of stealth would not fool the most amateur nose. He opened a panel on a wall and placed a bat-shaped item around the cables.

_That takes care of the cameras._

He padded softly out of the room; his sensors showing the brewery in a wireframe-like display, with red shapes dotting the landscaped, tallying up to 26. A long way away was a chamber, almost at the end of the labyrinthine facility. Odd thing about it: the walls pinged at a different color. This meant different density. Power lines converged in it, glowing red, indicating the place consumed massive amounts of electricity. That was where he needed to go.

He spotted a distracted guard; he took a batarang from his belt and threw it at him. The guard fell in a heap. He took the guard's radio, hacked the frequency and moved along.

* * *

_We got a boogie._

_Where?…ah, there. 10 o'clock, 90 mph…wait…is that who I think it is?_

_Is that… Superman?_ The female's voice sounded carefully optimistic.

_Not enough information. _

_Be careful, Batboy._

The figure flew around the roof of the tower, landing no more than 20 feet from him. It _looked _like him…the suit, the cape, the spit-curl…even the stupid, boyish grin of his. His piercing blue eyes turned towards his hiding spot. He smiled and waved. "Hello, old friend. You're a hard man to find."

There was no use hiding. Not from him, if it was really him. He emerged from the shadows, gravel cracking under his feet.

"What are you doing here?"

"I went to Metropolis and couldn't find Lois. Where is she?"

"Where have _you_ been?" Batman said, gravely.

"I'm sorry, I was called away to solve a crisis in Systus 2. I had a few other adventures along the way." He sounded apologetic. "Warp times in space aren't exactly easy to navigate once you lose your bearings. I checked a paper…I've been gone since September?"

The cowl's sensors worked overtime to check the barrage of information he was receiving…body measurements, size, shape, color, weight…his audio analysis had already checked his voice as genuine, but he had to make sure.

"Where was our first meeting?"

He looked bashful. "We shared a cabin in an ocean liner. There was a fire and I changed into my suit, taking advantage of the dark. When the fire blazed, I was able to see _you_ changing into your costume. We had to keep our identities from Lois."

Batman grunted. "Where do you live?"

"Before or after I got married?"

"Both."

"344 Clinton and 1938 Sullivan Place. Bit upscale for two reporters, but it was your gift."

Batman asked another question while he used the eye-typing lenses to type in a virtual keyboard, located in his heads-up display. He typed "_r u gettn dis?", _ while asking Superman who his parents were.

"Lara and Jor-El. Unless you mean Martha and Jonathan."

An answer was typed back. _Not him. Luthor. Busy. Keep him talking._

He nodded. "Cut the crap, Luthor. I know it's you."

Superman looked surprised. He stood there, arms akimbo, his thumb barely touching a small protuberance in the belt. "Batman, what's gotten into you? I'm your friend Kal-El."

_Someth…g's…rong, Bat…. _ The female voice cut in, but interference kicked in.

_We'r.. losing th. sig…. _

_Wha..'s g..ing o.? _

_Ta..k t….me!*_

Inside his cowl, Batman saw the audio levels drop to zero. A small pulse of energy flickered for a second from Superman's belt and then, nothing.

Superman crossed his arms over his chest. "Really? Not even a minute and you found me out? Kudos, master detective." The visage flickered and Luthor's face appeared on top of Superman's body. "It wasn't much of a ploy, really. I just wanted to see the look on your face. All right, I'm here. What do you want?"

"Where. Is. He.?"

"Who?"

"Don't play games, Luthor."

"I'm not playing games." He looked down. "Well, I do indulge in a bit of cosplay." Superman's face flickered back on. "He's…around."

Batman's eye-slits narrowed.

"So…when did you find out? Took you a while, didn't it? What gave it away?"

"A sample from the Bulldog tanks..."

"Yes, but that was when? Two weeks ago? Three? I have the video of you snooping around my facilities while I was up north." The cape fluttered in the wind. "I wasn't too surprised when Lois went to see me eight months after he went missing. She's a great reporter, but as a detective, not even in your league. But you? Taking this long to put it together? People might think we're in cahoots." He laughed. "What happened? Did you have something to do? Something when you're not the 'dark knight detective?"

"What…?"

"Did your life as Gotham's most decadent playboy took a nasty corporate turn?"

Batman balled his fists and his gloves crackled.

"I've known for a while, Brucie. Which is why not even one month after he was gone, Wayne Enterprises were hit with a steady stream of lawsuits, IRS meddling, EPA complaints, SCC accusations…basically anything I think to keep the CEO busy as hell."

"That was you?"

"Of course it was me. I knew that you'd come after me. By simple elimination, I was the most likely suspect. Hey, did you like when Senator Thornton proposed to restore and open to the public the caves under Wayne Manor that were used for the Underground Railroad? I laughed my head off when the beleaguered Bruce Wayne had to tell the public that due to unstable foundations, the Underground Railroad could not be viewed by the Native American public." He chuckled. "Native American and Americans alike absolutely hated you until you acquiesced, but that cost you big time, right? You had to relocate the Batcave…."

_Keep monologuing you bastard. Hurry up, Bruce._

* * *

The last guard crumpled to the floor, his access card already in Batman's hands. The door was made to look like it turned on its hinges, but it was too heavy for that. No, more likely it would slide over a heavy rail or massive hinges on the other side. He typed the password, swiped the card and used the guard's palm print on the panel. The door slid to the side, a foot and a half thick slab of titanium. He walked through.

The corridor twisted and turned, with doors opening to the side. He ignored them. The door he wanted was behind two more corridors, all of them heavily trapped. Massive slabs of stone, walls rigged to blow, red-sun lamps covering every inch. He zip-lined over the pressure-sensitive floor, disabled yet another alarm system and sealed the last secret door to the garrison.

The door to R&D Lab 21 loomed ahead. Two more sensors, simultaneous key accesses and retinal scans points stood between him and the lab. He bypassed them in 18 seconds.

The laboratory was very large, with high ceilings, littered with red sun lamps. In the middle of the room there was a gurney, with a metallic base that looked like it was screwed to the floor. On top of it, a large sheet covered all but the right arm of a very powerful shape. Dozens of cables and wires came from the top of the figure's heads, next to several computer servers of high capacity. Even with his suit, he could feel the air conditioning pumping at full power, trying to keep the room cool.

The door closed behind him.

The trap-detecting capabilities of his visor bounced all over the room, the walls showing as opaque. He'd have to eyeball it. Slowly, he made it closer and closer to the gurney. He managed to make it through by following a faint set of prints, small, maybe a nurse's or a petite orderly, navigating through a complex pattern on the floor.

He reached the gurney. He took a device from his belt, aimed it at the ceiling and fired. It emitted a high-pitched sound that shattered the red sun lamps one after the other, pitching the room in complete darkness. Glass cascaded to the floor, but not enough to trigger traps. He took another device from his belt and…

"Well, hello Brucie." A voice boomed from all around him. In the distance, he saw that a light had been switched on in the observation deck…and there was a silhouette standing there. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up."

"Luthor!"

"Yes." He pressed a few buttons and from the corners of the room, four panels slid open and high-powered floodlights were turned on. Batman seemed to shrink when the light covered every inch of the room. Even he couldn't cast the slightest shadow.

"My, my. How ridiculous a bat looks in broad daylight. I'm guessing you spent the past 2 hours navigating through the most tortuous labyrinth we could design…and you used most –if not all- of your bat-tricks. And I'm thinking you're feeling pretty secure, because of that concentrated yellow sun lamp you have in your hand will get him to 30-40% power and that's enough for you two to escape. It's a good plan and I would be very, very worried …if he was indeed under those blankets."

Batman pulled the sheet off and winced. It was just the glove-like skin of an arm, next to a life-size medical dummy that breathed in and out thanks to the machines it was connected to.

"Yes, that's part of a creep suit. The real deal is nowhere near this place."

"So the energy drain, the extra security…this was just to trap me?"

"You guessed wrong; don't beat yourself down for it. We have six or seven locations just like this one, each one with a different body part exposed. I knew you had spies in my organization and this was a way to weed them out and find out how much you actually knew." He pressed a button and panels from the top sides of the lab walls slid open, revealing dozens of men in LexCorp uniforms, armed with high-caliber rifles leveled at Batman.

"So…if you're here…who is in Metropolis?"

"Slade Wilson. And if you're here, that means Dick is in Gotham, right?"

Batman remained silent.

"You left your protégé alone against the well-oiled killing machine that kept _him_ under wraps since his capture? Yeah, that was smart, Bats. Well, my friends and I are going to finish your interference. You know, for a billionaire, you seem to forget the resources I possess. I have entire armies in my payroll. Wearing you down is just a matter of numbers. High numbers, but still."

"And you're forgetting one thing, Luthor."

Lex's "open fire" hand gesture stopped in mid-air.

"What?"

"I'm the goddamn Batman."

Lex didn't even see what happened. He just noticed the world went white and he was thrown backwards, hitting the wall behind him.

It was a movement that would have surprised even the kryptonian sap. Batman must have taken something…two things from his belt and hurled them to the ground. They exploded, creating a blinding, deafening wall of force that shattered everything in its path. It was as if he had found a way to miniaturize Superman's thunderclap, add a bit of lightning and use it in case of extreme emergency. It was a potent combination in a miniature package…something even Batman must have considered too dangerous to carry en masse.

Lex was back on his feet in less than ten seconds, but when he looked into the lab, he found it was empty. He looked at his watch, saw that he was within the parameters and went to the door.

"All stations, he's escaping through utility corridor three; the west exit is the closest to him. Make him work for it. Wilson? Go."

Batman ran through the corridors, his sensors guiding him to an exit. He had one of the sharpshooter's radios and tried to hack it on the run.

"Nightwing, get out of there! It's a shell game! Luthor is in Metropolis!"

* * *

***Gotham Towers***

"Ah, but I'm having the feeling that I'm not talking to the real Batman."

"What are you talking about, Luthor?"

"No, you're not him. You're slightly thinner than he is, not quite as tall and your voice doesn't sound like you gargle gravel every morning…"

Batman remained silent.

"You're younger, therefore less experienced, less capable."

"He's running the show, trying to accomplish the main goal and you here are just the distraction."

He kept goading him. "Of course. Professional distraction."

"A decoy."

"The eternal boy hostage."

"Lifelong member of the Dead Parents Society."

Batman kept his arms crossed, but he looked like he was very, very angry.

"Circus brat, used to neglectful parents endangering his life."

"What was he thinking? Green shorts and pixie boots?"

"I always wondered why he kept a kid in a yellow cape, brightly and visible, while he cowered behind that black pair of bulletproof long johns." He laughed while Batman's eye slits narrowed further.

"Hey Robin…say 'holy" for …"

The right hook came out of nowhere and it deadened the left part of his face. He remembered his instructions to the letter: _goad him, taunt him, and rattle his cage until he's ready to hit you. Let him, but make it seem like a light breeze just struck you. That punch must not faze you, let alone drop you. Make it through that, stick to the script and we have it made._

"You're lucky I rolled with that punch." He said, calmly. "Otherwise you would have broken your hand."

"You son of a bitch." Batman took a few steps back. "I'm going to make you regret you came to Gotham."

"I'm sorry, old friend, but what's wrong with you?" Superman seemed to scan the horizon and nod. A second later, there was a whistling sound and a black, metallic object flew at him. It came from behind Batman and Superman caught it with one hand. "First you punch me and now a batarang?"

The batarang exploded in a bright, red light, sending Superman backwards.

Superman fell to the ground, his face and hands smoking, screaming in pain. "What did you do to my powers? What did you do to my powers?"

* * *

Batman ran through the corridor, hearing massive footsteps behind him. He rounded a corner and hit the two guards that laid in ambush, pirouetted to a third –knocked him out with a knee- and used his rifle to bash the head of a fourth. He found the stairwell and moved to the next floor. The place was designed with short stairwells, placed in opposite sides of the building, in order to further delay any escape attempts. His right side felt tender…probably a bullet…but he kept running.

Suddenly, Lex Luthor barred his way, wielding a shotgun. "Did you think we'd let you escape that easy?"

"Didn't cross my mind."

"Tell you what…get past me and you're home free."

"I get past you and I'll beat his location out of you."

Lex smiled. "You're welcome to try."

The shotgun barrel deflected the batarang and the cloak blocked the shotgun blast, but by then Batman had gotten to melee range. A vicious uppercut sent Lex staggering back, the shotgun falling to the ground, and Batman following the hit with a punch to the solar plexus that unexpectedly hit something hard. It sent shocks through Batman's arm.

"Armor." Lex threw a jab straight to Batman's chin, grabbed the pointy ears and twisted, hard. The ears detached as Batman grinned and delivered a fierce head-butt. Lex fell down.

He sat astride on his chest, grabbed his lapels and shook him. "Where is he?"

It was at that moment when it downed on Batman: Lex wasn't bleeding. The hit should have turned his nose into mush, but he wasn't even bruised.

He checked Lex's collar and found a thin, metallic loop around his neck. He ripped it off and Lex's face vanished, revealing a stranger with a full head of hair, shifty eyes, a broken nose, split lips and bleeding gums.

"…Luthor?"

"…yeth? …"

Batman pressed down on the bloody nose. "WHERE IS LEX LUTHOR?"

The mook screamed in pain. "…Idonnow"

He slammed him once again against the floor and ran away. He tried his communicator once again, hoping against hope that the signal would not be blocked anymore. He called Nightwing once again, with a deep feeling of foreboding.

* * *

"Chairman Siegel, Members of the Board of Trustees, President Plastino, Former Presidents Boring and Waid, Provost Weisinger, Division Chairs, Faculty, Vice Presidents, Staff, Distinguished Guests, and above all, students of CalTech, good evening. For those of you who don't know who I am, my name is Lex Luthor."

"When President Plastino asked me to contribute to your fundraising efforts, I was delighted. As one who went from the alleys of Suicide Slum to the boardrooms of Metropolis, I know how important it is to put together the best talent with the greatest opportunities. But it got me thinking…am I doing all I can? Is writing a check enough to help science and technology advance?" He shook his head.

"Sadly, no; that simply won't do anymore. This year, LexCorp will do more than just write a check. Don't worry, President Plastino, I still have it here. I'll even sign it before the physicists devour the hors d'oeuvres."

A bit of laughter spread among the audience.

"No, the reason why I am in Pasadena tonight, is to tell you that LexCorp has made a pledge to CalTech. I have put, in writing, that LexCorp will give employment to each graduate from any and every class of CalTech in any field. LexCorp is at the moment, starving for new ideas, for fresh minds to think, not only outside the box, but in a completely different wavelength. This past year, we've taken LexCorp to a whole new level –and that is with a tired old brain that's simply out of this world. But to get to where we need to be, in scientific and technological terms, we're going to need a bigger brain. I'm going to need every one of you, for the next ten years, at least, if we are to make significant progress within my lifetime." Lex smiled, folded his speech and put it in his pocket.

"You know, we are not too different. Making huge deals every day are a fine way to spend time, but to tell you the truth, sometimes the thrill of being in the lab, ground zero for a new concept, idea or discovery is like nothing else in the world."

* * *

The fight on top of the Gotham Towers was not going well.

_No way is this guy Luthor. _ He dodged jab to his head, but got nailed with a knee to the side.

_Style is too refined…_a chop to neck and an instep hit. _His Amazon trainers have said that he is below average…this guy's a bruiser..._

He feinted to the left, when Superman dropped a pellet to the ground. It released a pea-soup fog almost instantly, completely surprising him. Just as he peered into the fog, trying to find either Superman or the way out, Superman lunged forward and plunged a heretofore unseen knife under his chin. Indescribable pain flashed for a few seconds and then it all went dark.

Quickly, Superman took a plastic bag full of blood from a pocket inside the cape and ripped it open, spilling it on the gravel floor. He stuffed the bag back into the pocket, picked up the twitching body, engaged the thrusters and flew away, making sure he was well clear of the area the cameras were covering.

* * *

"We are people of passions… we think of nothing else but doing that which give us pleasure. What do we get out of that? A feeling of accomplishment, the knowledge that throughout the day we worked in what we feel passionate about. That we are making the world better….that somehow, somewhere, we are changing the world. And if we happen to receive obscene salaries for it, well, ladies and gentlemen, that's my definition of Nirvana."

"I am a man that looks for the wisdom in any investment. And let me tell you that this agreement between LexCorp and CalTech is the wisest deal I've ever made. I have complete faith in humanity; I have the greatest confidence in our ability to rise to the challenges life throws our way. And I'm more than happy to do my part in helping the world to be a better place, by helping knowledge replace ignorance. The world expects great things from you. It's time to stand and be counted."

Thank you very much."

The assembly applauded at Lex Luthor, as he made his way down from the podium and into his seat at the table for the guests of honor. Before long, he saw how a student showed the screen of his phone to another, and then both showed it to others and they typed and texted in them.

He stood up and went to the nearest one. "Anything good?"

"Mr. Luthor, I…"

"Ah, don't worry. Speeches are boring, anyway. I also check my phone from time to time, but mostly to check my stocks."

"It's a video from Gotham City. Batman kicked Superman's ass a little while ago.""

"He did? How? Why?"

"Don't know, sir. The fight is short, but Superman gave as good as he got. Look, it's about to end…see how Batman hits Superman in the face with one of his batarangs? And then there's the gas covering both and when it clears, they're gone."

Lex shrugged. "Just another dust-up. It looks like they have one of those every Wednesday." He returned to his table.

* * *

Batman emerged from the Koul-Brau brewery, battered and bloodied, but still on his feet. The last batch of guards had really done a number on him. His uniform was ripped and torn in several places, almost all of his bat-tricks were gone and he had to leave his utility belt hanging in an electromagnetic trap. What little evidence he gathered inside was long gone, but he was already planning the next phase of the plan. He ran a few blocks towards the place where he hid the Batwing, when he felt a paralyzing discharge of electricity go through his body. He fell.

"Well, well, well…" a throaty voice rasped behind him. "if it isn't my favorite nighttime rodent. Looks like Ol' Baldy was right on the money."

He picked him up and dragged him away.

"Let's put a smiiiiiiile on that face."

* * *

It was almost dawn when Lex boarded his plane. Before it took off, he called his agents.

"How's the clown?"

The man in the video looked very ill. He looked behind him, at a closed door from where maniacal laugh emanated. "He's been there for hours, only coming out to ask for…supplies."

"What kind of supplies?"

"C-crowbar, a comb, chocolate, lint, green apples, a razor, finger puppets."

"Great. He's in our special room, right?"

"Yes."

"Proceed, with confirmation."

"Yes, sir."

Lex saw the guard signal the other guards and lots of things happened at the same time: two barred the door, five climbed up a ladder and took positions all over the roof. A dozen hoisted automatic weapons and stood by.

The laughter inside the room stopped abruptly and the door rattled.

"Hey, what's the big idea?"

The guards on top opened small hatches and dropped grenades. The blasts shook the door almost off its hinges, as the voice inside screamed. "…no flash photography, please. Bats is kinda shy."

The guards dropped a grenade every few seconds, and their instructions were to do so until each guard had dropped its allotment. The door buckled when shrapnel hit it and smoke wafted from under the door until the blasts ended.

Slowly, the armed contingent of guards opened the door and entered, guns blazing. The flashes illuminated the room and Lex saw that the walls were smeared with blood. Finally, a guard came out and addressed him.

"It's done, sir. J and K are out."

"Show me."

The guard removed his mask and Lex identified him as one of his employees. He then took the camera and went into the room. It was as ghastly as he expected, but he clearly identified the body of the Joker and the broken, charred remains of Bruce Wayne.

"Dispose and disperse. Well done, people." He switched to another channel. "Report."

"Arrow fired. Belfry is toast."

"Good. Gibblets?"

"As many as we could spare."

Lex nodded. "Fingerprints?"

"Scrubbed. Untraceable, sir."

"Good job."

The plane took off and flew in the direction of Metropolis. Lex Luthor leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was asleep before long.

* * *

"Our top story today, experts reveal that the large explosion that all but destroyed Wayne Manor early this week has been confirmed as 'superman' made, as no traces of explosives were found in the wreckage, but traces of kryptonian tissue were found all around the site. At first, the only body found belonged to Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne's long serving butler, and the tissue was thought to be his, but as the investigation continued, tests performed by Homeland Security revealed it was of Kryptonian origin. A substantial amount, they added."

Images of people walking over smoking rubble covered the screen. One of the workers pulled out a piece of blue fabric; another held a torn piece of red cloth. "Bits and pieces from his uniform seem to support that theory. Here at WGBS, we hesitate to speculate any further, but it appears that the loss of such a large amount of tissue could be fatal to the Man of Steel."

"Authorities have tied this event with the violent Superman/Batman's confrontation that occurred on top of Gotham Towers that very same night, as blood evidence found on the roof was also confirmed Kryptonian. Sources inside GCPD revealed that they were puzzled when they found it mixed with a few drops of human DNA, belonging to Richard Grayson, former ward of Bruce Wayne. There are many unanswered questions, but sources close to Homeland Security have revealed that Batman, Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson are being sought for questioning, though none of them have come forward, issued a statement or answered calls from the Batsignal. In other news…"


	6. Chapter 6

An Ordinary Day

The alarm clock rang at 6:45am.

"Morning, honey."

The shape under the covers stirred.

"Come on, you can't hide from the world. Up an at 'em!"

She strained to hear a barely intelligible mumble.

"You're going to be late to the gym and you know you're always cranky if you don't do your cardio." She grabbed the covers with both hands and yanked. "This is for your own good, Cl_. You'll thank me…"

_***grumble***_

"…eventually."

Cl_ shut his eyes tighter and buried his head under the pillow. "I'm skipping the gym today."

"Sure, Mr. Had-Two-Helpings-of-Rhubarb-Pie-Before-Supper. You'll be late for work."

"I'm a freelancer… I'm my own boss."

"So help me God, K_, I'm going to get a bucket and soak you with the coldest water you're ever felt."

Cl_ bolted upright. "I'm up! I'm up!"

His hair was a mess and his stubble was just the right amount of itchy, but L_s kissed him just fine. "Good." She walked to the door. "Don't forget that you're having lunch at your parents today. I have meetings all day, but I'll meet you guys for dinner. Don't forget to take K_a to her ballet lessons today and to pick up K_l's basketball glasses from the eye doctor."

She blew him a kiss from the door and left. He heard K_l and K_a shout "bye, Daddy!" from the front door before L_s took them to school.

Cl_ stood up from bed, a bit shakily. His knee was acting up again and he half walked, half limped to the bathroom. God, that slice of pie had wreaked havoc in his digestive system. His stomach felt tight and bloated at the same time. Go to the gym? Not today.

He ignored the mirror and headed straight to the shower, mentally going over his to-do list: the AC was wonky and it wheezed all night, which kept didn't let him sleep well. What else? The cat needed food (how much can a cat pack in every day?) and it was high time to clean the gutters and give the garage a good coat of paint. Mow the lawn? Cripes…shampoo got in his eyes and it stung like hell. He cupped his hands around his eyes and tried to wash them with the accumulated water, but it just stung worse.

He finished the shower, toweled himself dry and shaved in front of the mirror. His eyes were very, very red. He flinched from his reflection, as if it his eyesight burned.

He put on a comfortable pair of slacks, a M_ Monarchs baseball jersey and red crocs. He made himself some breakfast and went down to the basement, where he had staked out his writing den. It wasn't easy to have a place of your own when your 8 year old just wanted your computer to play Plushy Monsters and your 12 year old hijacked your LBox every day to play Murder One. It wasn't a game for kids…he had in fact written a few op pieces about the dangers of ultra-violent games on minors, but hey, how could he let his kid be the only one in school who hasn't played Murder?

He moved K_a's dolls from his keyboard…(God, she didn't take her cereal bowl to the kitchen last night and it was a gooey mess), turned on the computer and hammered away at the keyboard. He checked his email, goofed a bit on LexStayConnected checking his profile and sharing the latest cat picture with a goofy caption. Between rounds of FightingWords –quite the addicting app- and half an hour breaks filled with FailVideos, he managed to cobble together a few pieces for the paper.

He handled, proofed, approved and reviewed unbelievable amounts of information and content, like it was nothing, all in order to fact-check his articles. He yawned, stretched and was amazed that it was almost time for lunch. He emailed the stories to P_y and ran upstairs. He changed to a fancier shirt, grabbed his keys, wallet and ran out the front door. He'd be a few minutes late to pick up the kids, but that was a regular thing by now. Time just…flew by.

Traffic was heavy, but his trusty Mini weaved in and out of traffic and he made it to Shuster Academy barely a minute past the pick-up time. He joined the car queue, displayed the K_a & K_l K_ sign and picked them up a few minutes later.

"Howdy, kids. How was your day?"

"It was great, daddy." K_a's giddy voice filled the small car. "Gladys told us she has a new puppy and he's a firecracker."

"Really? That's great." Cl_ signaled to the left and drove towards New T_y. The trip took about 20 minutes, but he was glad he didn't have to fly all the way to Kansas just to have lunch with his folks. "What's his name? Kryp…"

"Dad, are we going to pick up my glasses today? Coach Siegel says that I need them if I'm going to start the game next week."

"Really? You made the team? That's great, K_l." The car slowed at the yellow light and stopped at the red. "Yep, they're ready. We're picking them up today."

"Great." K_l looked sheepish and his used his 'asking for permission' sing song voice. "Say, Daddy, you think that if I do my homework today early, I can squeeze a few games of Murder One?"

He pretended to think hard about it. "As long as your grades hold, you're fine. The first B I see and…"

"I know: the game is out like a light."

"Darn tooting."

Cl_'s eyes returned to the road and he saw he was driving down a big road, with no cars around him. It looked like there were miles and miles of road to go. He looked at the car's dashboard to check the time. "It's almost three. Shouldn't we be about to reach New T_y?"

He saw K_l's face on the rearview mirror; catching his _you know nothing, Dad_ scowl. "We're here, Dad." He looked at the road and saw the big green sign "New T_y, Next Exit."

"I can't believe I almost missed that one…I had great eyesight when I was younger."

"You still do."

"No, I wear glasses now." He made to tap the side of the glasses, but his finger poked his eye.

"You're silly, Dad. You don't wear glasses."

"Ow!" He jabbed his eye good, and it stung just like when the shampoo got in his eyes. He looked at them using the car's rear-view mirror. They were not just red, but angry red.

He heard around him the massive blare of a truck. He looked around, trying to find where it was so he could maneuver away from him, but the road was completely empty. Even the New T_y exit was gone and up ahead he could see nothing but road. The klaxon kept honking, now joined by a siren.

Cl_'s foot eased on the gas and he gently turned to the shoulder.

"Dad, what's going on?" She looked around, getting panicky.

"I'm scared, daddy. What's happening?" He tried to hide it better, but he could see he was very upset.

Cl_ stopped the car, shut off the ignition and stared at his kids. They were perfect visions: K_l had his eyes, K_a had his mother's. K_l was not strong, but he'd look like he'd sack quarterbacks right around High School. K_a was sweet and mellow, with perfect teeth and an engaging smile. K_l had a mess of dark hair that hung over his forehead and over his ears.

The klaxon and the sirens roared to a deafening level as Cl_ hugged his kids. "K_l, I loved you from the day you were born and I would have loved to see you become the man you were meant to be." He kissed his head, but it felt strange. "K_a, you are every bit as lovely as your mother. I know you would have grown to be one hell of a take-no-nonsense woman."

He let them go. "But I don't think you're real."

His children…the love of his life, the reasons he lived for, the joys and tragedies of life, simply vanished before his very eyes.

Around him, the road broke apart, the skies turned dark and it seemed like the world started to fade away.

Cl_ K_ was surrounded by a swirling blackness, like tendrils, that tried to take hold of him. Valiantly, he fought them off. It was as if he was falling into a collapsing star, where gravity threatened to throw him into an impossibly big tornado, where he could see bits and pieces of his life..and a life that looked impossibly familiar and yet, it hurt to even think about it.

The tornado spun around him faster and faster until it collapsed in a bolt of thunder…

…followed by blinding lightning.

When he opened his eyes, he was floating high above the ground. He was looking at a massive landscape, all tall buildings, squat buildings, patios, pools, parks… he knew he should be feeling dizzy, being this high and with no visible means of support…but it just _felt_ right.

He felt compelled to fly higher. He started to gain altitude and saw the landscape shrink under his feet. His… red-booted feet?

The higher he went, the better he saw the shrinking landscape. It seemed to be spelling something…

He flew higher and higher, until he could make out every letter. For some reason, it brought a tear to his eyes.

The message read:

"Your Name Is Clark Kent."


	7. Chapter 7

7.- Best Laid Plans...

"My name is Clark Kent?" He remained afloat, pondering the question. "Who is Clark Kent?"

Outside this world, Richie Adler stared at his computer monitor, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He wanted to shout "_You are, you stupid git. YOU ARE!" _but he was in the Vault, working on the code, and although he had tampered with the video feed monitoring his work, he had to keep his reactions in check.

_C'mon…_

_c'mooooon…_

_react…_

_reaaaaaact…_

_don't do this to me again….REACT!_

But maddeningly, Clark remained as he was. Richie banged the table with his fist. The time window he had for his attempt was fast expiring.

He resumed typing, sending lines and tweaking the code as far as he dared. It was a slow, time consuming effort…creating algorithms that could search every corner of cyberspace, tagging and pulling untold thousands of pieces that made Superman/Clark Kent's memory and personality. He'd create a construct with enough memories and he'd hope it would hold together just enough to allow him a way back to his brain and escape.

He had tried everything and he had been doing this for months. It was a task fraught with peril: there were hundreds of programmers actively trying to keep his mind adrift in a jumble of information. He knew it wouldn't be simple, because new locks, barriers, gates, and scramblers of the highest technology were put into use by the other programmers. Currently he had a 180 second window and each week it became smaller and his prep work became lengthier. He checked his notes…it took him 8 weeks this time? He checked his watch and grimaced. He had less than 20 seconds now, and if Superman didn't follow the virtual path he laid for him, he would need to spend another 8 weeks, maybe more.

He knew he was playing with his life and his family's. Luthor's tone never rose from friendly and conversational. When he was given full access and the "where did Superman go" speech, he just asked how his wife was doing and commiserated about Ginny losing a baby sister. By all rights, he should have kept his mouth shut, his nose to the grindstone and collecting his very fat paycheck.

But every time he was at home and saw the door that led to his little girls' room, he knew he'd keep trying, risks be damned.

_Superman would have saved her_, he thought as his eyes watered. _Had he been around, he would have saved her and there'd be no need for parents to bury their children._

He came out of his reverie in time to see that he had failed once again.

Clark shook his head and muttered "I don't think this is real."

Clark's shape glowed brightly for a second and then, it split into thousands of points of light spreading in every direction, until nothing remained. The virtual mind was empty once more.

He sighed.

He rested his head in his hands and rocked back and forth for a few minutes, tension gripping him in the neck muscles and holding tight.

He would have to start the process again, but with the cumulative difficulty that the pieces of his personality and memories were getting smaller and smaller, due to the fact that the virtual pool where his essence was submerged grew larger by the second. Images of Lois, of children, of his parents, childhood friends, hopes, dreams…they were not enough to hold him together. He'd disbelieve the illusion at first, prompting him to seek more answers, but he kept on disbelieving; thinking the way out was a more elaborate trap. "Your name is Clark Kent", "You are Superman." "You need to find Lois"; "Luthor is behind all this." He could be lead to a certain point, but after that, it all came crumbling down. And when the time was up and he was still stuck in the magical dreamland, his memories simply pulled a big bang and went back to being lost in cyberspace. It was like a bad virus that rebooted the computer before he had time to upload the cure.

He remembered when it had taken him three days to get a few dozen memories and ran a Superman scenario, where he rescued his little girl. Back then he just said "Nice try, Luthor" and flew completely away from his path, searching for crimes to stop. He did a dozen Superman scenarios until he realized "Clark" would have a better chance of success. Superman was always busy, flying around, but Clark…oh, Clark would have better tethers to the world. And for a time, he dared to hope.

But he disbelieved.

And his once plentiful memories were harder to put together. At one time, he could form a complete Superman, and now, he was lucky if he could get enough memories to sit together to manifest a pair of red boots. He tried to whip up fake memories to bridge the gaps, but he saw through it immediately and in some cases, reacted very violently.

He knew another attempt would take 8...no, 9 if he was being realistic. 9 fully loaded weeks of work, with virtually no time to go home. He knew he needed to spend all the time he had on his wife and daughter, walk away from this project, tell someone about it and yet…he couldn't just leave it alone. He couldn't tell anyone. Who'd believe him? It was all over the news that Superman was dead and there was no way in hell he could sneak out any evidence. And plant it online? He'd be dead before he knew it.

He _had _to get Superman back. He'd protect him.

_All right_, he thought. _Once more, unto the breach._

* * *

_Six Months Later_

Lex looked around the conference room, pleased at the attendance. He had been busy –very busy- this past few days and he needed to cleanse his palate with the latest reports and discoveries from his top scientists and researchers.

"Ingersoll, you have the floor."

"Sir, we're not pleased to report that we've overhauled the spy satellite's software, but we've failed to discover why it's taking so long to fire."

Lex's face did not betray emotion. "What's the percentage on speed loss?"

"22%"

"So now it takes more than 2 seconds to fire? Do you know how many miles it can cover in 2 seconds?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you know how, even with all our recalibrations, it still misses by inches?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you manage to increase the power in the beam?"

"Not really, no. The power couplings cannot handle more stress and even if they did, the energy to beam conversion cannot be improved. We're literally getting everything we can from the material."

"What about the accuracy issues? There've been a few times when the systems have the target down cold and the beam misses by inches."

Ingersoll consulted his notes. "We couldn't find errors in the programming. The algorithm works as intended and there are no bugs. We're adding a subroutine that will force a recheck between the intended target, the targeting computer and the satellite visuals. We're confident it will work."

"Confident?"

"100% sure, sir. I'm monitoring the development myself."

"Good. Miller?"

"We were not able to produce neither the contact lens lasers nor the x-ray specs, sir. Every simulation we ran returned with disastrous results to the wearer's eyeball. We tweaked it as far as we dared and, we built a model for a test…"

Lex's eyebrows shot up. "You mean the charred remains pictured on page five?"

Miller looked apologetic. "Yes; had it been in someone's eye, it would have turned the skull into a pressure cooker and the steam inside the cranium would've…." Lex waved a hand and Miller trailed off.

"All right, move on to the next project. Williams, what is going on in Site One?"

"You have the latest inventory, sir; along with our best guesses as to what is the purpose and function of the objects. We divided them in several categories: weapons, armor, gadgets, gizmos, trinkets and…

"…too scary to know? Your guys seem to have a flair for the dramatic."

"Ah, yes: the chest-sucking plant. Holland was caught by it and when we separated them, he became a raging maniac, trying to get attached to it again."

"I remember; you moved him from your service and into the psych ward. Be careful with the plant, but let me know if we can synthesize whatever enzyme it injects, either for inducing or controlling rages. The possibilities are interesting."

"We're mass producing the energy sources from the guns and the military is very pleased. Major Holden keeps telling us they want them like hell needs icewater."

"Good, this should take the heat off our spastic satellite. How are we doing regarding the cleaning robots?"

"They are surprisingly simple. We're testing them in our Wichita facility, ironing out the power source kinks, but they're going to be big moneymakers."

Lex took another file and leafed through it. "Malucci, how's the medical research?"

"We were beating our heads against the wall with the healing matrix, but we came up with a workaround. We're ready to test it on live subjects."

Lex made a note to call his agent in the FDA. "Remember: I want the common cold, cancer, asthma, AIDS and Alzheimer gone. And that's just my starter list. Lorne, how fares the Vault?"

"We had a bit of a hard time replacing Adler, but we're confident Dr. Wheaton will perform as expected. Adler did no damage and he never knew we tweaked his memory locating algorithm into doing the opposite, keeping the memories as far away from each other as possible. In many ways, he did us a favor that helped us plug the breaches in our security.."

The meeting carried on for a few more hours and when it concluded, Lex went back to his office. Pearl had left the latest reports from his agents and he was eager to read them.

The projected earnings were unbelievable; the patent teams were filing them around the clock and after a while he briefly considered taking a break and watching the videos, just to relive the exhilarating feeling of holding his head by the spitcurl and punching his face until his fist hurt…

He felt a buzz in his front pocket. He grabbed his special phone and answered.

"Yes?"

"This is Pitkin."

Luthor had people in every level of government and Pitkin was his agent inside the Department of Justice. She was a serious, dour woman with a serious gambling problem that enabled Lex to keep abreast of their work and investigations, get very important tips and warnings, all for a modest fee.

"What do you have?"

"The capes case.. they're going to subpoena you."

Lex smiled. All hell broke loose in the months after the Batman-Superman fight and the destruction of Wayne Manor. There was no denying anymore that Superman was gone: they recovered enough pieces to pronounce him dead. The media and the law enforcement communities–human and metahuman- had gone berserk, trying to find out what happened. There were hundreds of costumed interlopers and the stupider ones wanted to take a shot at him. Veiled threats from Green Lantern, vandalism from the Flash and even a stern talking-to from Captain Marvel…well, he assumed it was going to be one of those…he walked away while Captain Marvel was saying "You see, Mr. Luthor…"

He'd suffer no idiocy from a pale imitation.

"When?"

"48 hours, maybe less."

He let the line go silent for a while and then he said in his iciest voice. "Why am I hearing this just now?"

"They brought people from outside and they used anti-surveillance shit that found every bug I planted. I had to stop it or they would have found me. But they left one of their tablets in the room and I went in via the tunnel and downloaded everything. I'm dropping it at the usual spot."

"No. Use the third alternate. We need to be too careful. Who is in charge of this?"

"AUSA Timmons."

"I know of him. He's a good lawyer...bit of a glory hound. But no, this is not Timmons' doing, not by a long shot. Who's the cape behind this? Who's bringing this mess to my front door?"

"The Woman."

"Ah…" Lex stroked his chin. "The third of the Big Three. Now it makes sense. Good job, Pitkin. You're getting the usual payment and if the goods are useful, I'll double it."

He hung up and dialed a number. A voice answered by the second ring.

"Jonah." Lex liked him; he didn't waste his time with idle chat.

"I need an update on the gold project."

"It's ready. We just need to calibrate it."

"Will it work?"

"On paper the numbers look fine, but we don't have access to the item, so our best guess is to turn the dials all the way up. It may cause damage if there's prolonged exposure."

"Get it ready, I'm on my way."


	8. Chapter 8

8.- Lex Luthor's Day of Truth

"Order, order in the court." Judge S.G Larson banged the gavel, trying to make himself heard over the roar of the crowd. "This court will have order!" Cameras flashed as they tried to take snapshots of the defendant. Lex Luthor sat there, the picture of decorum in court, even after Guy Gardner slapped him upside the head with a giant green hand.

The noise died down and the public returned to their seats. "One more outburst and I will make this a private trial. Is that clear?"

The past week had been a media circus, with Lex Luthor's arrest for Superman's murder, search warrants served in his properties and his financial records under heavy scrutiny. The public had followed the case with extreme interest. His legal team had not contested any evidence presented in the preliminary hearings and he had stonewalled the press with "no comment" every time he was asked anything. He only said, "I will face my accusers in court and I will prove, categorically, that Lex Luthor is innocent of all charges."

Sprinkled among the public were members of the Justice League –Wonder Woman, despite her business suit, was impossible to miss-, prominent politicians and business allies and rivals of Lex Luthor. No one dared miss what was about to happen, as they escorted Guy Gardner out of the courtroom, screaming "you bald sonofabitch!"

Judge Larson dropped the gavel on the table. "Very well, counselors, I'll hear your opening statements."

AUSA Benedict Timmons stood up from the prosecution's table. He was a tall, dignified man that looked like he had played football in his college years. A fine set of silver hair and an elegant diamond pin on the lapel of his three piece suit completed the picture.

"Your Honor, members of the jury, the evidence in this case are going to show that at thirty-eight minutes past seven p.m on September 7th, 2011, the defendant, Alexander Luthor, enacted the sabotage of the Shooting Star space station, sending it into a collision course against the fair city of Metropolis. The evidence is going to show that he engineered it to finally trap and assassinate Superman. You will hear the testimony of our witnesses that will not only confirm this, but will also tell a chilling tale of dismemberment, profiteering from the sale of parts of his body, killer satellites and illegal eavesdropping. Evidence with also place him ransacking Superman's Fortress of Solitude, in order to sell his most closely guarded secrets to the highest bidder. Finally, the prosecution is going to prove that the defendant, Alexander Luthor conspired, aided and abetted over a dozen murders to keep this matter from the public eye." He addressed the jury directly. "Ladies and gentlemen, we know that Lex Luthor has projected the image of a savvy businessman… a philanthropist, proud of his humble origins…but that couldn't be further from the truth. We will peel back the façade. We will look behind the curtain and see the man for what he truly is: the mastermind of crimes so heinous that they would make Satan himself recoil. We want you to see the evidence, we want you to hear the witnesses and we want you to return with a verdict of genocide, felony murder, sabotage and public endangerment against Lex Luthor, for committing this foul crime."

Sitting next to his lawyer, Lex remained composed. He looked like he was at one of his board meetings, immaculately dressed in an Armani suit, with gold cufflinks and silk tie. _Not bad, Benedict. Now you'll hear from my attack dog. _

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my name is Jean Loring and it is my privilege to represent Lex Luthor in this case before you today. You have heard the prosecutor explain what he hopes will be proven, but the prosecutor did not tell you all the facts. The prosecutor has explained that my client was "identified" as the mastermind behind Superman's disappearance, but in fact we saw Superman engaged in a very public fight in Gotham City last July, months after his so-called disappearance. His eye-witnesses are people that have held grudges against my client for a long time and their statements are full of inconsistencies and his evidence is highly questionable. Superman was pronounced dead after Wayne Manor, not when the Shooting Star fell. My client did not ransack a research station in the Arctic, because he owns it and we will see how it came into his hands. The so-called sabotage was merely a technical malfunction, appalling, yes, but perfectly reasonable in a 5 year old space lab. And what about the rest? Kill sats? Dismemberment? Dozens of murders to maintain the cover-up? Again, none of this is backed by credible, substantial evidence. The prosecution is putting all this in a giant pipe and is hoping the smokescreen will not let you see how little this has to do with reality. So we would ask you to keep an open mind and listen to all the evidence, and return with a verdict of "not guilty." Thank you.

"Mr. Timmons, are you ready to begin?"

"Yes, Your Honor. We will call Dr. Mindy Davenport to the stand."

A woman in a business suit was sworn in.

"State your name."

"Dr. Mindy Davenport."

"And what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a NASA investigator."

"Were you part of the Shooting Star Investigation Board?"

"Yes."

"And what was the purpose of that board?"

"To find out why the station fell."

"So, what happened up there?"

A few slides appeared in the court's TV monitors. "The retro-rockets on the dorsal area of the ship ignited and gave a full burn for seven minutes. There were several attempts to shut down the rockets, but they all failed. They tried to compensate and maintain altitude by using the ventral rockets, but they failed to engage and this caused the station plummeted to Earth."

"Where would it have crashed, specifically?"

"The hundredth block Metropolis would have been ground zero."

"What kind of damage would have caused?"

"We're talking about deaths in the millions with damages in the billions."

"Dr. Davenport, was your agency able to establish a cause?"

"Yes."

"Please elaborate."

"We went over the on-board computer systems, and we were able to determine that an order to switch on the retro-rockets was given, knocking it out of orbit."

"And how was this order given?"

"It was given from the master computer, at mission control."

"And where is this computer?"

"LexCorp."

"And was there something unusual about this station?"

"Yes. We located a small, metallic chamber located in the ventral side of the station."

"And why was it unusual?"

"Because it was placed in the most likely spot someone would use to hold the station, should it be falling towards a large city."

"Objection. Speculation."

"Your Honor, she is a NASA expert. This falls well within her area of expertise."

"Overruled."

"Was there any mention in the station's documents about the purpose of this chamber?"

"No mention whatsoever."

"As a NASA technician, what do you think could be the purpose of that chamber?"

"To trap Superman."

"Objection!"

"Withdrawn. No further questions."

"Miss Loring, your witness."

"Yes, Your Honor, thank you." Jean stood up, holding a yellow folder with several sheets of paper.

"Dr. Davenport, why are we hearing all this evidence right now?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, the Shooting Star fell down in 2011, and since then there have been several inquiries and all of them came with the 'control parts malfunction' verdict. Why is it that now, all of a sudden, we're hearing that a "computer from LexCorp did it?"

"Simply told, new evidence came to light."

"New evidence?"

"Yes, the faint trace of a digital fingerprint was found, after an exhaustive search."

"Is that so? Dr. Davenport, did you find that digital fingerprint?"

She hesitated. "It was a team effort."

"Give my kudos to your teammates, Dr. Davenport. Now, who in your vast, but capable team, found the fingerprint?"

"Well, I can't say specifically who did it…"

"Dr. Davenport, could you please tell me who Victor Stone is?"

She looked at Timmons. He looked like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Dr. Davenport?"

"Ah, yes. Mr. Stone is a computer consultant."

"Is that his night job? I thought he was one of the Teen Titans. Cyborg, if I recall correctly."

Mindy shrugged. "Yes, that's him."

"Isn't it true that he is your computer expert that found the so-called digital fingerprints leading to LexCorp's computer system?"

"Yes."

"And those findings were recorded in the new report prepared for this trial?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it true that the Shooting Star Board revealed that the failure in the retro-rockets was due to a defective valve provided by Tengo Systems?"

"Yes."

"Wasn't this confirmed by an independent agency the following year?"

"Yes."

"And another independent study this year?"

"Yes."

"So, three in-depth revisions failed to reveal tampering, hidden programs, Trojan viruses and bugs in the system. Wasn't that the result of those studies that the computer was not, I repeat, not the cause of the failure?"

"Yes."

"Now tell me, is Tengo Systems –the maker of the defective valve- owned or operated by LexCorp?"

"No, it is a division of Ferris Aeronautics."

"Now that we have established that, please enlighten me: how did Mr. Stone manage to spot something that every major agency missed?"

Mindy looked very nervous. "Well…he…"

"How did he do to procure this information?"

"I don't…."

"Dr. Davenport, did he use the PTX-93 computer? The Locii scanner? The latest WayneTech or Kord Industries software?"

Davenport looked ill-at-ease.

"it's ok to admit that you don't know."

"No, I do know." She looked flustered. "He interfaced with the computer and found the trace."

"Interfaced? Please, elaborate."

"Well, he plugged himself into the mainframe."

"Plugged _himself_?"

"Yes, with a wire coming out of his…ah...prosthetic hand. He went over the entire system."

"And then he told you that he found the trace."

"That's right."

"Dr. Davenport, please tell me when the latest Victor Stone article was published."

"Article?"

"Yes. In order to consider Victor Stone's testimony as coming from an expert, he has to subject himself to the same standards: article publishing, peer review, determination of error rate. Tell me, does Mr. Stone comply with any qualifications we subject every other expert witness?"

"No, but he's a superhero."

"And? Is he affiliated with a recognized authority? Is he deputized? Is his operating system or his analytical program subject to the government controls and inspections? Has he established his bona fides?"

"No, but he has worked closely with New York authorities…."

"Dr. Davenport, government agencies do not grant authority by association. He and his gang of teen sleuths might have told the FBI that Timmy fell down the well, but that does not mean his ramblings can stand up in court. Your Honor, the defense moves to suppress Mr. Stone's findings from the record. He is clearly a biased source and he used a computer program no one has, with a computer no one else can use and found a fingerprint no one else could see. We have dozens of reputed and approved experts that found absolutely no trace to what Mr. Stone claims to have seen."

"Objection!" Timmons rose to his feet. "It was conducted in good faith."

"Did anyone manage to duplicate the results Mr. Stone found?"

"No, Your Honor." Timmons answered tersely.

"Overruled," the judge said. "Mr. Timmons, you should have known better."

"Dr. Davenport, do you know what kind of research was conducted in the Shooting Star?"

"No."

"Few people would." Jean submitted a folder, bulging with yellowing pages, to the judge. "Your Honor, we'd like to introduce the Shooting Star's complete research schedule. They were working with several harmful substances that required being stored outside of the station, and the experiments were done in a laboratory purposefully built outside, with no access from the station. You're, basically, asking why our hazardous material research station had a hazardous material storage closet. "

"I didn't know."

"And did you know of Mr. Luthor's whereabouts that day?"

"No."

"He was in a business meeting in Gardner Plaza, right in the middle of the hundredth block. If the station had plummeted and destroyed Metropolis, Mr. Luthor would have been among the casualties." Jean approached the jury and spoke, without looking at Dr. Davenport. "Have you heard of the term 'supermanning'?"

"Yes, I have."

"Could you tell us what it means?"

"It's a method of construction and assembly that takes into consideration Superman's intervention, and in case of accident, collision or malfunction, he can safely hold the vessel from that spot without compromising its integrity."

"And knowing this, didn't you stop to consider that the Shooting Star had been supermanned? That the so-called Superman Trap Spot was nothing more than a designed and purposefully built Superman Rescue Spot?"

"…yes. But the storage closet seemed…"

"Are both of those features present in their approved blueprints, years before LexCorp absorbed Jupiter Systems?"

"Yes."

"No further questions." Jean walked back to the defense table and took a seat.

"Well done," Lex said.

"Thanks. By the way, don't look at their table. Wonder Woman looks completely pissed off."

"Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call Lt. Colonel Steve Trevor."

Calmly, Lex looked at the prosecution's table. Timmons appeared relaxed, but when seconds passed and Trevor did not walk into the courtroom, a bit of panic flashed behind his eyes.

The doors opened, but instead of the aged Lt. Colonel, a man in a dark grey suit entered the courtroom. He approached Timmons and handed him a note.

Puzzled, Timmons stood up. "Your Honor, we're going to need to speak to you in your chambers."

"Your Honor, if this is a dilatory tactic from the prosecution…"

"Don't jump the gun, miss Loring. In my chambers."

Timmons, Loring, and Luthor followed the judge to his chambers. They were joined by the man in the dark grey suit.

"Now, what is this all about? Who are you?"

"Tresser, from the NSA. I'm sorry, but Lt. Colonel Trevor won't be allowed to testify."

"Why in the world won't he be allowed to?"

"The nature of his work is highly classified." He said as he gave the judge a letter. "I'm sorry, but it's a matter of national security. Disclosure of what he knows could very well put US Army personnel in danger and compromise the security of our armed forces at home and abroad."

"Your Honor, this is outrageous! Col. Trevor's testimony regarding tank plating and the Io Satellite is the key to…"

"That's exactly what he can't talk about. The nature of the protection, the specifications on the satellite and its capabilities are Top Secret. A word of this will put our boys in grave danger."

"Your Honor, the prosecution vehemently insists…"

"Insist all you want. If Lt. Colonel Trevor testifies, he'll be lucky to work as a mall cop. You don't want to mess around with this kind of secrets." He took a document from his briefcase and handed it to the judge. "This is a federal order to suppress his evidence and testimony. I'm going to need everything he gave you."

Minutes passed as Judge Larson read it. "I'm afraid I'm going to side with Tresser. Strike his testimony off the record and give the agent what he asked for."

As they walked back to the court, Lex whispered to Jean, "And that takes care of the kill sat and the tank plating."

"Now for the vests…"

The court broke for lunch and when they returned, Lex saw that Timmons had rallied admirably. "Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call Dr. Emmet Gordon."

Gordon was sworn in and he introduced himself as a scientist from Star Labs.

"Mr. Gordon, have you had time to familiarize yourself with the LexVest?"

"Yes. I performed several tests on them, over the past six weeks."

"And what did you find?"

"This vest has been a high seller for the past two years. It's made out of a very light fabric that, defying what conventional science tells us, it can stop bullets cold, with zero effect in the wearer. The low-end ones can stop a .357 slug, but the high end ones shrug off AK-47 bullets like they are rain water."

Lex whispered to Jean. "My, he should write copy for my catalogues."

"What made you examine the vest in the first place?"

"The scientific aspect intrigued me. Here was a piece of fabric that was telling kinetics to shut up and sit in the corner. I wanted to know why. We purchased one and when we examined it, we found what looked to be organic tissue."

"And what did you do?"

"I took a sample and ran it through my scanner. The results shocked me: it was Superman's DNA."

"Are you sure?"

"I ran the scan five times myself. There is no doubt that it's his."

"And what did you do with this information? Did you tell anyone?"

"I told _everyone_! But nobody believed me."

"And the DNA sample? Surely that would have been the proverbial smoking gun."

"My boss would not allow me to take it off-site. I valued my job, so I listened to him."

"No further questions."

"Miss Loring, your witness."

"Mr. Gordon, finding Superman's DNA must have been traumatic."

"It was. A sample of that size, multiplied by the number of vests floating around…"

"Please tell the court how did you obtain Superman's DNA, in order to make the comparison?"

"Excuse me?"

"How did you get Superman's DNA to compare it to the so-called match in the LexVest?"

"Oh, that. We got our sample from the Justice League."

"When?"

"Eight or nine months ago."

"Out of the blue? You started testing six weeks ago and you had the DNA in your databanks more than half a year before even thinking about doing tests. It strikes me as unusual."

"We were contacted by Batman and he sent the sample. He wanted us to have it in our database, in case Superman's DNA showed up in any sort of investigation and we could have ways to identify it."

"Batman…that's very interesting." Loring said dryly. "So you say that the sample you used to compare Superman's DNA with was provided by Batman, a prominent member of the Justice League, yet a vigilante so obscure he was thought an urban legend for a number of years?"

"Yes."

"How can you be sure that sample came from Superman? After all, the JLA finds aliens civilizations virtually every week, so there's no shortage of alien DNA. And Batman, well, he's known for his inventiveness…and prefacing everything he owns with the word 'bat'."

"Well, I don't know. I didn't think…"

"Your Honor, this is Victor Stone all over again. What qualifies the JLA as purveyors of kryptonian DNA?"

"Your Honor, I've had enough of this…" Wonder Woman stood up, despite Timmon's attempts to keep her seated. The fabric of her suit strained around the shoulders.

"Mr. Timmons, advise your colleague to keep her composure in my courtroom."

"She does have a point, Your Honor." Timmons took his handkerchief and wiped his forehead while an irate Wonder Woman took her seat. "They fought and bled for that man, and most of his medical records are in the JLA satellite. If there's anyone that would know about Superman, it would be a member of the Justice League."

"Under the purview of no authority, Your Honor. We are not even certain that the DNA sample they procured really belonged to him. Last time we saw Batman and Superman, they were viciously fighting each other and that ended up with the partial destruction of Wayne Manor."

Jean went back to her briefcase and extracted a folder. "The defense would like to introduce this petition to compare the so-called kryptonian DNA from our vests with a kryptonian DNA sample, from a viable and unbiased source."

Timmons shot back. "How? You just said the Leaguers are a bunch of liars and forgers."

"Your Honor, we merely suggest we use the sample Superman himself provided. The single strand of hair he donated for charity? I believe the hair is still holding a 1,000 pound weight in the museum. And we would like an independent laboratory to perform the tests."

"That sounds fair. Mr. Timmons, any objections?"

"No, Your Honor. But those tests won't be done by tomorrow."

"No, I'm sure they're going to take some time, but you can keep going, can't you?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

A frustrated Timmons called the next witness.

"Mr. Kinney, how long have you been a LexCorp employee?"

"September 2012, that would be 8 months ago, almost right out of MIT."

"And what do you do for them?"

"I work maintaining the Super Server."

"And what is that?"

"It's the computer server we use to house petabytes of information. Basically, it's the backbone of the LexNet."

"And why is it called 'the Super Server'?"

"I don't know."."

Timmons froze. "You don't?"

"No, I don't. It was called that way when I was hired."

"Mr. Kinney, didn't you tell us that it was called that name because, and this is no euphemisms, it was Superman's brain? His actual brain matter?"

"Um…no. I never knew why they called it that. I figured it was a Metropolis thing, which I didn't get because I'm from Wisconsin."

"Didn't you tell us that you, in conjunction with the late Richie Adler, had discovered that Superman had been captured, held in a basement, flayed several times a week and had his brain turned into a computer server?"

"Jeez, no. Hell, if that was the plot for a movie, I wouldn't bother watching it for the cheese factor alone."

"But you did say that. We have you on videotape. You were under oath. Do you realize you're perjuring yourself?"

"Yes, I am. I'm sorry I led you to believe that." He looked at the microphone and he spoke in a low voice. "I have an IQ of over 200, but I also have a crippling case of anxiety and OCD. I take very heavy medication, which I sometimes neglect. One time I had an amazing conversation with Stephen Hawking regarding String Theory and then I realized I was talking to my computer speakers. I've woken up in strange places, hundreds of miles from home."

"I'll accept whatever penalty I deserve."

"How do you remain employed to LexCorp, if you have such criminally filled hallucinations?"

"Your Honor, if I may…" Loring stood up. "LexCorp is aware of Mr. Kinney's condition and we were happy to assign him top medical and psychological care, as part of his employee benefit pack. LexCorp discriminates no-one."

Timmons glared at her.

"Any further questions, counselor?"

"No, Your Honor." He stuffed a file in his briefcase and closed it with a bang.

"Miss Loring?"

"Mr. Kinney, why did you testify things you knew were false?"

"I was off my meds. I'm deeply sorry, Mr. Luthor. I didn't mean to cause you harm or to discredit your company."

"Thank you. No further questions."

The judge rapped the gavel. "We'll adjourn for today. We'll reconvene tomorrow at 9:00 am."


	9. Chapter 9

9. And Justice for Lex.

"Tell it to me again, Markus. I want to know where this case went completely off the rails. How many DNA samples are we talking about?"

"Five. There's the DNA found in the blood in the roof…"

"Check."

"…the blood from the remains found in Wayne Manor."

"Check."

"We have Superman's DNA sample from the hair in the Metropolis museum"

"Check."

"The sample logged into the computer banks of Gotham City PD; that's the one that matched the blood found on the roof of the Towers and Wayne Manor."

"Then there's the stuff pulled from the LexVests…"

"Which isn't DNA?"

"Right. It looks like it, on account of the polymer being used is essentially organic, but it's not kryptonian DNA."

"And then there's Batman's sample, which only matches the material from the LexVests." He kneaded his forehead. "You know, it struck me as unusual that Batman would have given Superman's DNA away, just in case there were matches, when Metropolis PD, the FBI and at least 3 more government organizations had it."

"So, what matches what?"

"Blood from the roof and blood from remains in Wayne Manor match the sample GCPD had and _those_ match the hair from the museum. Neither of those match Batman's sample."

"And the LexVests?"

"They match Batman's sample and nothing else."

"Why did Batman give them a sample, then?"

"They said Batman feared the samples were fakes and he had the real deal."

"Figures. What did the egghead from Star Labs say to this?"

"He's apologetic as hell. He was running an older version of the analysis program and it made a mistake while compounding the genetic locus. He updated the software, ran the sample again, comparing it to the hair and it didn't match the LexVests."

"So the material from the LexVests is not Superman's DNA."

"It's an organic compound, highly complicated, with a name as long as your arm, but no, it's not."

AUSA Timmons felt weak at the knees. "Shit." He looked at the junior lawyer. "Here's Wonder Woman, handing me the case of the century, and the only thing I thoroughly checked was her breastplate. Markus, I should have checked the hell out of that evidence. I don't think I could have screwed myself harder if I tried."

"Sir, I have friends in the GCPD and they say Batman would never pull a stunt like that."

"They also look the other way when he showed up with a different Boy Wonder, so what's your point? He just showed up with a DNA sample no one else found anywhere. I'm going to be the one with egg on his face, telling the jury to disregard the cornerstone of my case."

"Sorry, sir."

"This was the big gun and now…we're not even shooting blanks. Dammit, Loring is raising all kinds of reasonable doubt with the witnesses we've scrounged up. It's one thing when Flash testifies after the whole Rogues Gallery laid waste to Central City in full regalia, laughing at the dead while calling out the Flash…but a whole different thing when the bald bastard didn't even jaywalk when Superman disappeared and when he died, he was giving the goddamn keynote speech at CalTech. Every alibi checks, every place has his ugly mug in the security tapes…"

"Maybe that's his mistake."

"EH?"

"When has Lex Luthor been that easy to find?"

"That gets us nowhere. He is a public figure and being in the limelight is not going to suddenly convince the jurors he's guilty. Plus the timestamps have not been altered. That's him in those places at those times. What else we got?"

"We're not convincing the juror with the DNA, we're missing witnesses, the ones we got have recanted...and we're trying tomorrow the Fortress…"

"Oh, yeah, that should score us some points." Markus said.

"We have a bunch of missing persons, but they can't all be traced back to Luthor, because not everyone worked in LexCorp, not everyone was involved with computers and not all of them vanished from Metropolis. Our case was more based on the physical evidence and the witnesses were an added bonus, because you know how flakey their testimony can be. But then the evidence turned to shit."

Timmons loosened his tie. "Dammit, we had a case. We had DNA, witnesses, a digital fingerprint, damning testimony…I thought it and it was airtight and ironclad. Now, it's leaking worse than a sieve."

He closed his eyes and pointed at the phone. "Get some take-out. We're in for another long night."

Early next morning, Timmons saw yet another ironclad witness torpedo his case. Jennifer Adler, Richie's widow, would simply not confirm anything said during the interviews. Loring picked up on this and what little testimony she could offer that would bolster his case, she'd toss it out with an objection.

And then it was her turn to cross.

"Mrs. Adler, first I want to say I'm sorry for the loss of your husband."

"Thank you."

"And I'm sorry for the loss of your child. How old was she?"

"Six."

"Would you mind telling us what happened to her?" Loring said, empathically.

"We lived in a tenth floor apartment and I went to take a shower. She managed to open the balcony window and she…fell." She closed her eyes and sobbed.

"When was this?"

"June 2012, two...no, three weeks before he was hired by LexCorp."

"I have the notes from the police officer on the day in question. Your husband kept saying 'he should have saved her. He's supposed to be our savior. Where was he?' Mrs. Adler, whom is your husband speaking of?"

She didn't answer.

"Is it Superman?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"When he was around, Superman dealt with an average of 27 crimes, 9 accidental falls and 4 suicides a day…" She held up her list, with the stationary of Metropolis Police Department. "It's well within the realm of possibility that, had he been around, he would have saved your daughter."

"Did this event have any change in your husband's behavior?"

Jennifer snapped. "You try losing a child and tell me if it doesn't change _your_ behavior."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Adler. I'll rephrase…how did your husband feel about Superman?"

"Like every other Metropolitan: he loved him."

"Did he ever talk about him?"

"Yes, like I said, we're from Metropolis and even seeing him fly by just brightened your day. Once he saw him while he was running through Bessolo Boulevard. He caught a malfunctioning crane that would have flattened an MTA bus. He said it thrilled him to see how they got to live the rest of their lives because he was there."

"In your circle of friends and family, how many people have been directly or indirectly saved by Superman?"

"Oh, dear…I have to say quite a few. I'd have to say five…no, six of my friends –the Hell's Gate bridge collapse- and he rushed one of my uncles to the ER when a truck sideswiped his bike…the Metallo Rampage, the Terra Man Round-up…"

"So, Superman was there for them; for a lot of Metropolitans?"

"Yes."

"For your family and friends?"

"Right."

"But when it really counted for you and your husband, he didn't show up."

"Yes."

"Now, is it possible that your husband resented Superman for not being there for Sybil?"

Jennifer hesitated.

"Isn't it possible, Mrs. Adler, that he felt that Superman had let him down? That Superman failed him and his daughter?"

She shook her head.

"I can't begin to fathom the stress of losing a child, but isn't it possible that he drove himself into work, in a mental state that let him believe that somehow LexCorp was involved in this? Isn't it possible that, by blaming LexCorp, your husband was absolving Superman? Justifying his absence?"

"No…" her voice was but a whisper, barely picked up by the microphone.

"Mrs. Adler, what did your husband really say about Superman? What did he say to you, in the days after the accident?"

"I don't know. I don't remember."

"Didn't he say '"He should have been there. He should have saved her'?'"

Jennifer Adler's face broke into a rictus of pain as tears flowed from her eyes. "Yes." She covered her eyes with her hand and looked down, sobbing incoherently.

Jean moved closer, carrying a box of tissues. She asked in a mellow voice "Mrs. Adler, isn't it possible that, in his grief, your husband simply latched on to Mr. Luthor, his boss and at the time, the most powerful man he personally knew? In the place where he spent most of his waking hours? When the Metropolis Marvel failed him, isn't it possible that he just transferred his feelings to the other constant presence in Metropolis?

"Objection, Mrs. Adler is not a psychologist and she cannot have an opinion on Mr. Adler's mental state."

"Your Honor, it was her husband. Who is better than her, to know about his moods?"

"She may answer the question."

Jennifer dried her tears and tried to regain her composure, but failed. She sobbed. "Yes, it's possible."

"Mrs. Adler, one more thing…was your husband ever approached by Bruce Wayne?"

"Objection, relevance."

"Grounds for the defense, your honor."

"You have some latitude, miss Loring, but not that much."

"Mrs. Adler, was he ever approached by Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes, he was."

"When?"

"July. He invited us out for dinner at Dynasty."

"What did they talk about?"

"Mostly about tech. I didn't understand any of it."

"Did he offer your husband a job?"

"Yes. He said that, for all its work, LexCorp wasn't the best place to be. He offered to match his salary and give him a job at WayneTech."

"Interesting. Before working for LexCorp, did he apply to other places?"

"Yes. Kord, Queen, Star Labs."

"Did he apply to WayneTech?"

"Yes."

"And they only tendered an offer after he was employed by LexCorp. Mrs. Adler, I'm sure your husband was a very gifted, talented man, but why do you think Bruce Wayne himself came to talk to him?"

"Objection. Mrs. Adler is not an expert nor is she qualified to talk about Bruce Wayne's behavior."

"Sustained."

"Mrs. Adler, what else do you remember Bruce Wayne said in that dinner?"

"He said that things could get messy in LexCorp, and if he wanted out, he'd have a cushy new job at WayneTech. That LexCorp didn't deserve his brains."

"Didn't deserve his brains. What did your husband said about this offer? Did he think about it?"

"No, my husband was a very loyal man. He bristled when Wayne said he should keep his eyes and ears open. We talked about it and he liked what he had in LexCorp, what he could do there if given a chance."

"Mrs. Adler, how do you feel about Lex Luthor?"

"Mr. Luthor is a kind, wonderful man. After Richie died, he sent us the check for his life insurance and his stock options, along with a wonderful letter of encouragement. We lost Richie, but me and my daughters are set for life. When other companies pinch the pennies out of your hand, LexCorp has been generous and understanding to a fault."

"Thank you, Mrs. Adler. No further questions."

Lex smiled and nodded as Jennifer Adler left.

Benedict Timmons called his final witness.

"Dr. Edward Tyler, head of research for LexCorp."

"Dr. Tyler, how long have you been head of research at LexCorp?"

"Since June 16th, 2012."

"And why were you promoted?"

"After the rather tragic death of Dr. Markinson and his team, when the sabotaged generator exploded."

"Dr. Tyler, could you tell me the location of your laboratory?"

"Yes. It's in Site One, on the North Pole's research station currently under LexCorp control."

"That's right. Tell me, Dr. Tyler, what kind of work do you do at Site One?"

"We do highly advanced medical and energy source research. We're finding practical applications almost every day."

"Judging by the number of patents and medical trial permits LexCorp has filled in the past three months, I can see that. Now, what is it about Site One that has allowed your department to make such breakthroughs?"

"Are you kidding? It's a researcher's dream! It's packed to the gills with technology so advanced, it makes everything we've done as obsolete as cuneiform writing."

"What kind of technology is there?"

"Energy beams, energy projectors, advanced computers, crystal storage systems, plant life not native to our planet, gravity chambers, stasis pods…"

"Good, good. Now tell me, do you know who owns all those wonderful toys?"

"They're hardly toys, Mr. Timmons. We've had to be very careful handling everything."

"Just answer the question, Dr. Tyler. Who owns all of those items?"

"LexCorp does."

"Did you know that Site One was really Superman's Fortress of Solitude?"

"No, I didn't."

"So you didn't know you were in his Fortress, his sanctum sanctorum, his retreat from the world, ransacking his treasures?"

"Wait a minute; I didn't know it was Superman's place. I mean, who knew he had a place where he could kick back and hang his cape? I sure didn't."

"Dr. Tyler…"

"Did _you_ know Superman had a Fortress?"

He glanced a second in Wonder Woman's direction before snapping back to Tyler. "That's hardly…"

"You didn't know either." He looked at the judge. "No one knew, and with good reason; I mean, the top of the Everest has 3G so you can tweet when you reach the summit. If people knew where Superman's home was, there would be a line from there to Tierra del Fuego. But no, we were not ransacking his treasures because we had permission to be there, only we knew it as an alien artifact repository."

"Alien artifact repository?"

"Yes. Sort of like a real life Area 51: stuff confiscated by the government from wannabe invaders, intergalactic troublemakers and paraphernalia taken from your garden variety mad scientists. Superman never figured into the equation."

"How did you find out about the place? Who told you?"

"We were taken there by Bruce Wayne, on behalf of the Wayne Foundation, well before we worked for LexCorp. Mr. Wayne told us he owned everything in Site One and he told us how to get in and out."

Timmons felt dizzy for a second and had to lean on the desk to keep from falling. "Can you prove any of that?"

"Yes. I kept copies of every document that passed through my hands." He patted his pocket and produced a flash drive.

"When did you find out it was Superman's Fortress?"

"When your people contacted me; if it hadn't been for that, I'd still think it was just a fancy warehouse."

"How did you end up working for Bruce Wayne?"

"We knocked on their door. I headed a private group called Cortes Research. We were a small group with big ideas and almost no cash. We approached the Wayne Foundation with a proposal they liked and they gave us a grant to do the research. Our results pleased Mr. Wayne very much, because no more than a year after that, we got a meeting with Mr. Wayne himself, telling us we had done a great job and that he was moving us to his special projects brand. He said he wanted our group to be working with LexCorp before 2012."

"Why?"

"I don't know what his end-game was, but Mr. Wayne felt an intense dislike for LexCorp. I'm sorry to say, but I just took the money and got lost in the science. At first, I passed the results to Wayne and LexCorp, but as time went on, I ditched Wayne. I'm sorry for that, Mr. Luthor."

"But why, why, why oh why would Wayne get involved in this?"

"Mr. Wayne was a man of many secrets, Mr. Timmons. Do you know what the subject of the first study we did for him was about?"

"No."

"It was about negating the Flash's frictionless aura using chemical means. Mr. Wayne was very big on finding ways to deal with everyone in the superhero community."

At this point, even Wonder Woman looked aghast. "Everyone?"

"Pretty much, yeah. We didn't lack resources or research material."

Timmons was clearly thrown out of balance, but he tried to regroup. "We're off-topic, Dr. Tyler. Please concentrate on the area we are talking about, which is LexCorp and the Fortress."

"It's all connected, Mr. Timmons." He pointed at the flash drive. "In here are all the memos, emails and studies we conducted on behalf of Mr. Wayne. There's the list of items contained in the Fortress, an interview with Superman stating quite clearly that the place and all its contents were to be used by Mr. Wayne in any way that he saw fit. I found that video when we finally got the mainframe from Wayne Enterprises, after the merger. I'm including the authorizations granted by the International Arctic Science Committee to conduct research near the Fortress."

Timmons saw another argument evaporate before his eyes. "Yes, that's because LexCorp had no permission to work in the Arctic Circle."

"That's right; Wayne Enterprises got them for Cortes Research. All the official papers were in our name, in order to keep Mr. Luthor in the dark. Mr. Wayne was very interested in putting LexCorp and Superman's Fortress together using our research group, for what purpose, I don't know. We approached LexCorp with the lure of the alien artifact repository and we requested funding. At first LexCorp wasn't convinced, but after the death of Dr. Markinson, their head of research, we were the ideal candidates. I'm sorry I couldn't say anything, but I had a very binding confidentiality contract with Mr. Wayne. I'm pretty sure my chances of working again in the scientific community are slim to none now, but I don't care. I'm not going to railroad Lex Luthor for some crooked scheme of Bruce Wayne's."

"No further questions, Your Honor." Timmons walked back to his seat.

"Dr. Tyler," Jean walked to the witness stand. "Was Superman part of the research ordered by Bruce Wayne?"

"Objection, your honor. We haven't had the chance to evaluate the evidence."

"Overruled, he was a witness for the prosecution. Dr. Tyler, answer the question."

"Yes. He came up with the idea of a beam that, in conjunction with kryptonite, would store kinetic energy in Superman's bones. The pressure would build past his breaking point and he'd explode within minutes of being dosed. Mr. Wayne wanted us to check the numbers and see if the project was feasible?"

"And was it feasible?"

"Yes, but it would have taken an obscene amount of money to make it real."

"What happened to that project?"

"He kept the blueprints and the prototype."

"How many projects like those did your team prepare?"

Tyler shifted in his seat, under Wonder Woman's withering gaze. "Well, this is kind of embarrassing…."

"How many?"

"At least two for each Justice Leaguer and one for every second and third stringer."

"And what did you do with them?"

"Wayne kept everything. He mentioned something about a warehouse in Gotham."

"How could you do that, how could you even conceive the idea of putting together those projects, when superheroes have saved the world many times over?"

"He said we needed to know how to stop them, in the event they went rogue. But let me tell you that we did not build death rays or killing beams. We worked the science behind them and we had small scale prototypes that couldn't possibly be used to inconvenience, let alone kill a cape."

"Non-lethal?"

"Yes."

"But could they be modified to be lethal?"

"With the sufficient know-how? Yes."

"No further questions."

"Mr. Timmons?"

Timmons and Markus were arguing in furious whispers.

"Mr. Timmons, are you ready to proceed?"

"and I'll be damned if this hero bullshit is going to tank me…"

"MR. TIMMONS."

Red faced, Timmons stood up from his chair. "I'm sorry, Your Honor; the prosecution rests."

"Miss Loring, are you ready to proceed?"

"Yes, your honor. Over the course of this trial, we've heard from the prosecution that man behind Superman's death is a man of wealth, of vast worldly connections; a man of science and a man of business, with a clear agenda regarding superheroes. The prosecution has tried to paint Mr. Luthor as that man, but we've unearthed enough evidence to discover who fits this profile to a T."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the one man behind the death of Superman, and the cover-up, involving scientists, poached employees, backroom deals and secret facilities, the one who'd benefit the most from pinning the blame on Lex Luthor is none other than Bruce Wayne."

"Or, as the criminal world has known him for years: Batman."


	10. Chapter 10

10. Dura Lex Sed Lex

"Order!" The judge banged the gavel, trying to quell the uproar. "Order in the court!"

It took several minutes before order was restored. Everyone in the courtroom looked beyond surprised, but Wonder Woman looked worried.

"Miss Loring, proceed."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I know it must be hard to believe that a billionaire, playboy philanthropist like Bruce Wayne could be involved in a plot so dastardly that would involve the killing of Superman and the framing of Lex Luthor. What is Bruce Wayne but the face of week-long parties with A-list celebrities? But make no mistake; Bruce Wayne is capable of that and much more. All we have to do is take a good, hard look at his life: he saw his parents being brutally murdered when he was a young boy. What would that do to him? To any of us? He had no immediate family, so he remained under the care of a veteran of the British Army's Special Air Service. Not exactly the Mary Poppins type."

"At the age of 14, Bruce left Gotham and worked to obtain skills in martial arts and forensics…" she projected a video of a young Bruce fighting against several opponents and studying things under a microscope. "He enrolled in several colleges, failing out of all of them and even washed out of the FBI when he was 20.

"Here he is with Henri Ducard, a dangerous bounty hunter who took him under his wing for several years." Another picture. "Here's Bruce Wayne in Korea, where a terrorist trainer named Kirigi said that Wayne had an impressive intelligence, but his past was too traumatic and sent him away."

"Imagine that: a terrorist trainer kicks you out of the program because you are too traumatized for his taste."

"Your honor, we came upon all this material when LexCorp absorbed Wayne Enterprises. While installing a better network, our engineers chanced upon a secret room, and from there, we were able to pull back the deception of Bruce Wayne. And what we found makes all of this pale in comparison: we discovered that the happy-go-lucky billionaire had turned Wayne Enterprises into a lumbering shell, with hundreds of items missing from R&D projects; entire prototypes vanished from warehouses and bank accounts that should have been flush with cash didn't have a red cent."

"We found…" She motioned to an aide to give hand her a large box, "…a handful of passports from varied nations: Northern Ireland, Spain, Mexico…made out in different names…" she flipped one open and read the names, "to Mordecai Wayne, Sir Hemingford Grey, Bruno Díaz…" She tossed them on the desk. "All of them with Bruce Wayne's face and not one of them a forgery: these were made by the proper authorities in those countries, with a verifiable paper trail. We're entering them as the defense's exhibits 9 through 21. We also found computers with files on people so detailed, the mere act of viewing them breaks several privacy laws. Wayne had dossiers on judges, politicians, generals…not even his fellow Justice League members were safe from his scrutiny…" she fanned a series of folders with the symbols of Green Lantern, Flash, Superman, Wonder Woman. "All with scalding secrets, and all of them obtained with spy software beyond our elite agencies wildest dreams, found in a computer with hacking capabilities that could cripple entire nations. Everything you see here, and more, was created, used and completely known Bruce Wayne without any sort of restraint or oversight from any sort of law-enforcement or government agency. It's shocking, really."

"Mister Wayne claimed to be a playboy billionaire philanthropist, but we've discovered that he was a habitual liar, embezzler and thief, with major crimes committed against institutions such as the United States Army, the Air Force and the Marines. We are working with General Holden, whom gave us a laundry list of equipment commissioned and paid-for by the Pentagon that never made it past the testing stage, but with a black coat of paint, made it to Batman utility belt. Here's a copy of that list and a copy of all items found in the secret warehouses, matching almost perfectly." She also projected images with Batman's cape, cowl, suits, gloves, boots, heads-up displays and their military project equivalent. His vehicles were also represented, with the biggest reaction from the crowd being the Tumbler, referenced on screen as the DCX-38 Bridging Vehicle.

"We are appalled by the sheer size of Mr. Wayne's deception, and we are collaborating with the right instances to see that the fugitive Mr. Wayne answers to those crimes. But first, we must clear the good name of Lex Luthor."

Timmons looked too shocked to even try to dispute the arguments from the defense. Wonder Woman had looked angry, then worried then sad. Lex sat there, his expression sympathetic.

"Your honor, the defense calls Detective Harvey Bullock."

The gruff detective walked in, reeking of cigar smoke; his hostility palpable.

"Detective Bullock, were you present at the Gorfinkle's warehouse on March 17th of this year?"

"Yes."

Jean took the remote control and pressed a button. The flat TV screen came to life and the images of a helmet-mounted camera played. It showed Detective Bullock walking in a packed warehouse. "There you are. Detective, could you tell us why you were in that warehouse on that day?"

"We got a 911 call reporting shots fired in the warehouse. We went in and found the place as you can see it." He pointed at the screen.

It showed a mess of officers walking around the warehouse, full of capes, cowls, gloves, and hundreds of Batman-related items. There were glimpses of batcycles, hang-gliders and two batmobiles: one was the long, sleek black vehicle with bubble windshields and the other was the Tumbler.

"What are we looking at?"

"Buncha capes and cowls. Costumes."

"Thank you, detective. Were you the one who found the disks?" She pointed at a stack of disks in a clear evidence bag.

"Yeah." He looked like he loathed being there and he said just the bare minimum not to fall in contempt of court.

"Did you log them into police custody?"

"Yeh."

"I have a copy of the evidence log, your honor. There are only two signatures, both from Detective Bullock logging in the evidence. They have not left police custody since."

"Detective, we also found a DVD recorder among a bank of monitors, which has also been in police custody since, and was also signed in by you. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Your honor, we'd like to show the defense's Video Number 3." She took one of the disks and played it in the recorder. It was a black and white high definition video, and it showed the inside of the warehouse the police raided, albeit from a high angle. Loring fast-forwarded it to the moment when the massive Batmobile arrived. The door opened and Batman climbed out. He appeared to be in a hurry, as he jumped out of the car and ran. A gasp went through the crowd when he removed his cowl and revealed Bruce Wayne's face. He ran past the camera and was out of frame for a few minutes. When he reappeared, he wearing a light grey suit and he quickly left the frame.

Bullock was aghast. Timmons was furious. "Your honor, that video could have been faked in a number of ways. Maybe Mr. Wayne was on his way back from a party."

"He went to the party in the Batmobile, dressed as Batman?" Loring raised an eyebrow.

"He's rich enough to have his own…" Timmons saw the trap, but reacted too late. "…replica of the Batmobile."

"Why would he do that?"

"To impress the ladies, I'm sure."

"To impress the ladies." Jean shrugged. "We'll get to that in a moment."

Timmons continued, "In any case, we want the video and we'll have it checked by our experts."

"By all means. However, you'll need to use the bat-player. If you use any other type of disk player, they'll show as blanks. That's why it took us too long to see the content." She turned. "Detective Bullock, were there any fingerprints found in the objects found in the warehouse?"

"Yes."

"Were they identified?"

"Yes."

"Who did they belong to?"

"Alfred Pennyworth."

"Bruce Wayne's butler and the SAS man who cared for him in his childhood. Any other prints?"

"Richard Grayson."

"Ah, the sole survivor of the Flying Graysons, adopted by Wayne in a rather questionable process. Any _other_ prints?"

"Bruce Wayne's."

"Thank you; no further questions."

Timmons walked to the detective and leaned in, conspiratorially.

"Detective Bullock, do you buy all this malarkey?"

"No, I don't. Pretty boy Wayne is the guy who made Two-Face piss his pants? Wipe the smile off the Joker? No way. That's Wayne coming from a party, plain and simple. Or maybe he was into freaky superhero play, you know? Wouldn't be the first time I come across a high muckety-muck getting freaky in Wonde-er, Batman's gear."

"Thank you. And did you find any evidence of any shots fired from the warehouse?"

"No. We found traces of a chemical reaction, by the worktable over there. Analysis came back as a low-grade explosive. Harmless."

"Detective Bullock, what type of warehouse is Gorfinkle's?"

"A construction warehouse."

"Maybe those were explosive caps, leftover from construction jobs?"

"Maybe, yeah."

"Thank you, detective. No further questions."

"Miss Loring, your next witness."

She stood next to the witness stand and dramatically said:

"The defense calls Alexander Luthor."

The hubbub of the crowd rose to a pitch and the honorable Benedict Timmons almost jumped out of his seat with joy. Lex on the stand? Was Loring scuttling her case? He was itching to go toe-to-toe against Lex Luthor.

Lex stood up from the defense table and walked, slowly, to the stand. He was impeccably dressed and he walked with an air of confidence.

"Do you solemnly affirm that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?"

"I do."

"First things first: did you kill Superman?"

"No, I did not."

"Did you sack the Fortress of Solitude?"

"No, I did not."

"Why do you think you have been accused of doing this?"

"Because when I wanted to buy Wayne Enterprise, I made an enemy out of Bruce Wayne."

"Why is that?"

"It's no secret that Bruce Wayne has never been a hands-on CEO and I, well, I live and breathe business." Lex smiled towards the jury. "My business sense has made not only Metropolis thrive, but we've shared the wealth all across America. On the other hand, under Bruce Wayne, Wayne Enterprise's stocks were twenty dollars under their highest historical price and some divisions were frankly stagnant. Lucius Fox, bless his heart, did the best he could, but most of the blame landed squarely on Bruce Wayne: he flipped and flopped between deals, wished and washed in and out of propositions and he seemed to be more interested in partying with starlets than in running a multi-billion dollar business. I put together a team to see if it was feasible to outright buy the underused divisions or if a merger was on the table." He shrugged and raised his eyebrows. That was it. He thought I was trying to desecrate the memory of his family and he went nuts."

"He refused the deal."

"Yes. He called me several times, trying to scare me out of the deal."

"And did he succeed?"

"Yes and no. Miss Loring, in our social circle, we know that Bruce is a bit unstable; that whole business with his parents and all that is kind of a touchy subject. We're very careful around him. He rarely shows up to formal events or business meetings, he leaves early when he does and he is profoundly unreliable." He leaned into the microphone, conspiratorially. "A lot of tongues wagged when he adopted that kid, Richard Grayson, and when they went at functions, you could see the kid was trying to conceal bruises or disguising a bad limp. Bruce was a better at it, but you could see there was something else between them. Mr. Timmons hinted that Bruce Wayne had all that bat-gear to impress the ladies, but I heard from friends that he didn't sleep with any of his girlfriends."

"Objection, your honor: hearsay."

"Sustained, Mr. Luthor, keep to the matters at hand."

"Yes, your honor. No, Bruce didn't scare me out of the deal, but I tried to be more diplomatic. I tried different approaches, sending my people to talk to his people…a merger would make him ten times richer."

"Could it be he doubted your business sense? After all, you did get taken by Madden and his pyramid scheme."

"A black chapter in LexCorp history, but we managed to pull through. And that's what made me look in Wayne Enterprise's direction and do the same for them. Bruce stonewalled us, but his is a publicly traded company, so we just went around him and bought Wayne stock."

"How did Bruce Wayne take it?"

"He sent my way every kind of inspection and audit he could think of. We had inspectors and supervisors and senior agents crawling over LexCorp on a daily basis. I didn't mind much, I keep a tidy ship, but then Batman started snooping around my offices."

"The Batman?"

"Yes. I have several security videos that show him staking me, my top aides, my personal assistant, my offices and other businesses I own in Metropolis and Gotham. My security is second to none, but he managed to break into my research labs on several occasions."

"Did you report the break-ins?"

"A few of my companies where he broke in tried to keep it in-house. I didn't find out until recently. They called the police, but it hardly mattered. Nothing was taken, nothing was broken and most of all, law-enforcement considers him a good guy. Did you know that Batman was officially involved in 881 cases solved by the Gotham City Police Department?"

She arched his eyebrows. "That many?"

"Yes. Anyway, I stopped hearing objections from Bruce Wayne earlier this year and I went ahead with the merger. Things stalled when Lucius Fox took ill, during the time Batman fought Superman on top of the towers. After that, Bruce Wayne became permanently unavailable. He pulled a vanishing act, with no one seeing neither hide nor hair from him. As you can imagine, Wayne Enterprises took it very hard. The stock plummeted even more and the board was fed-up with his antics. Next thing I know, they voted for the merger. When that was completed and we took over, our audit revealed all the secrets you previously mentioned about Wayne and Wayne Enterprises. Finding out he was Batman was the biggest shock and it explained a lot about his behavior."

"What type of behavior?"

"His constant unavailability; his foppish attitude…many times I wondered how Wayne Enterprises survived with him at the head, but he apparently came up with a brilliant design or managed an important contract every now and then. And the company did well because of him. Not great, mind you… just well. The audit revealed that the "from well-to-great" money of Wayne Enterprises went to fund Batman's war on crime."

"Is it expensive being Batman?"

"It is prohibitively expensive."

Jean nodded and pressed a button.

A slide appeared with photos of the various vehicles, suits and hideouts Batman had, along with numbers to the right of them. A running count was kept, with the total noted on the bottom right corner.

"Whoa, that's a lot of numbers, Mr. Luthor. How big is the figure?"

"Six hundred and eighty-two million dollars, and that's before he even landed a punch on a bad guy. If you factor in the number of years he was active, he spent close to three billion dollars in this. In a city where cops are badly paid and even worse supplied, how come this man invested so much in outfitting himself? Sure, he saved lives, but he could have helped even more. Did you know he had the best crime lab in the East Coast, inside his Batcave where none but he could use it?"

"He did have a standing donation to the city for 10 million dollars every year and the Wayne Foundation helped underprivileged children and unwed moms. Not to mention his contributions to firemen and law-enforcement." Loring said.

"I know. But when you see that he spent 20 million dollars in things like Bat-Shark Repellant and Bat-Cycles, it feels a bit like the change you find in the sofa, doesn't it? He spent an exorbitant amount of money just to play with the big-boys and girls."

Lex shifted in his seat. "It's like the arms race: Batman had to have everything to help him keep up: the fastest car, the fastest computers, the oddest gadgets he could pull out and overcome any situation, not to mention his state-of-the-art hacking and surveillance equipment. But no matter what, he'd never be able to compete with the biggest boy in the solar block."

"Superman."

"Indeed. Bruce Wayne resented Superman. I've seen the videos where he calls him an overgrown farm boy, constantly made snide comments about his intelligence and his boy-scout attitude. The man had a jealous streak a mile wide. I think he got tired of using expensive technology to be as capable as the man who was born with everything and decided to take his place."

"Do you think that's the reason why he did that?"

"Yes. Batman is a very dangerous man, and when you pull back the cowl and see he's Bruce Wayne, the kid who saw his parents being brutally murdered, it explains a lot about his conduct. When I tried to take over Wayne Enterprises and make it thrive, he realized he couldn't afford to keep being Batman without its contacts, contracts and sponsorship." He arched an eyebrow. "I had to go, so he could keep being Batman."

"Your honor, the defense has not proved beyond reasonable doubt that Bruce Wayne was Batman, other than a suspicious video and some questionable fingerprints in discarded gear, which may or may not even be real batgear."

"Miss Loring, I've been very patient with this line of questioning, but if we don't see something more tangible, I'm going to rule it inadmissible."

"Mr. Luthor, do you have more conclusive evidence that Bruce Wayne is Batman?"

"Certainly; did you know that the eye-shields in Batman's cowl are also high-definition cameras?"

"No, I didn't."

"Batman's cowl recorded every conversation and interaction…" Wonder Woman's eyes bulged…and so did a few others scattered among the audience, among them a man in a bomber jacket, a blond gentleman in a bowtie and a woman wearing fancy jewelry. "We found thousands of hours of footage. Luckily, he had everything listed and itemized, in a secret room in his Gotham City penthouse."

"Your honor, we'd like to submit this video for the defense." Loring pressed the remote and a video played. It showed slightly younger James Gordon standing in his office, smoking his pipe. A display read the date and time: 02/14/06, 9:55pm.

Batman's voice sounded, off camera: _Actually, your department's full of holes, but Holliman's the only one leading directly to Dent._

Gordon answered: _Holliman, well, you may be right._

Batman interrupted. _Follow up on it if you'd like, but if you don't, I will._

Gordon says:_ I'd assumed as much. I know how you feel about this case. _

Batman:_ I know you don't agree with my methods, but you seem to appreciate my results_

Gordon: _It's not that- it's just that you seem to know more about my department than I do._

The camera moved to show him leaving the office through the fire escape, using the bat-line to swing through two city blocks and then drop to the ground. A remote control in his wrist was thumbed and the Batmobile's door opened. He got in, started the car and drove away. A red light blinked. He pressed a switch and a monitor flickered on, revealing an immaculately dressed older gentleman.

Jean put the video on pause. "The man in the video is Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne's manservant."

_Master Bruce, Miss Vale called about your date_.

The voice was gruff. _I'm on my way. Meeting with Gordon took longer than I thought, but I'll be there. _

_Fashionably late is one thing, sir, but if you're coming here to change, you're about to be bloody avant-garde. _

_I'll make it up to her. Call the restaurant and tell them to start on her favorite dishes._

_Already did that, sir. May I suggest you go to the Gamma warehouse? I believe an Armani should be in one of the emergency lockers._

_You're a lifesaver, Alfred._

The car entered a warehouse and parked. The door opened and he jumped out of the vehicle and ran towards a locker. The recording stopped when he removed the cowl. It jumped to another video, taken from a camera located in front of a locker in the same warehouse. It showed Batman, without his cowl, taking an Armani suit from it and running out of the frame. He got dressed out of the frame, but his reflection could be seen in a video screen to the side. Finally, he emerged, showered, shaven and hair neatly combed, wearing the suit.

"Mr. Luthor, can you identify the suit?"

""That looks like a single-breasted, 2 button with notched lapel, light grey Armani, with a satin tie. Geometric pattern."

"And here's a picture taken from Gotham Gazette the night of February 14th, 2006, where we can see Bruce Wayne and Miss Vicki Vale, having dinner at Fox Gardens. Mr. Luthor, can you identify the suit Mr. Wayne is wearing?"

"A single-breasted, 2 button with notched lapel, light grey Armani. And there's the geometric tie." Loring put a still from the video next to the picture from the Gazette. "One and the same."

"We also found a video taken the night of Batman and Superman's fight."

It started with a still image of from the perspective of Batman, about punch Superman in the face.

"This video was badly damaged and we could only recover the final minute of it, on account of the brutality of the fight."

A right hook that looked like it hardly affected Superman.

_You're lucky I rolled with that punch. Otherwise you would have broken your hand._

_You son of a bitch_. The camera moved a few steps back. _I'm going to make you regret you came to Gotham._

"I'm sorry, old friend, but what's wrong with you?" Superman caught a batarang with one hand. "First you punch me and now a batarang?"

The blast didn't overload the light sensors of the camera, so they could see Superman fall backwards, his whole body smoking.

_What did you do to my powers? What did you do to my powers?_

Loring did another side-by-side comparison, this time of a zoomed frame of the batarang to an image from a computer file.

"Our technicians zoomed on the batarang and discovered that it matches perfectly with a diagram found in one of Wayne's computers. The one he had in his Gotham penthouse. It's the same principle of the beam Dr. Tyler worked on, only with an explosive red sun component, for shock and awe."

"What happened after that, we don't know. The discs stopped recording after that and new footage has not emerged." Loring said. "But we can speculate."

She showed the video of the destruction of Wayne Manor, and the finding of kryptonian remains.

"This also coincides with the disappearances of Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson. I think he never realized their fight against Superman would have someone watching it and making it public. Even if Joe Q. Public could not do anything to him, he'd face the scrutiny of his fellow heroes."

"The very same heroes he spied on relentlessly."

"Thank you, Mr. Luthor. No further questions."

"Your honor, I'm parched. Could I have a glass of water?"

"You may, Mr. Luthor. Mr. Timmons, your witness."

"Bra-vo. Braaa-vo, Mr. Luthor. Fantasy writers should hire you to write their stuff."

Lex stopped before he put the glass to his lips. "It's the truth, Mr. Timmons. You can't make up stuff like this."

"Oh, but you can, as a man of ample resources and staggering wealth. You're richer than Bruce Wayne and you have a mean streak a mile wide. Surely you could have spent a few billions in taking down both Superman and Batman."

"No, I didn't. My finances are squeaky clean and LexCorps's records are available to the public. The IRS audited us when we were merging with Wayne's and they gave us a clean bill of health."

"You're also one of the most gifted orators I've ever seen. I bet if I give you the most obscure reference or topic, you'd be able to talk for six hours straight and would never repeat a line. For all we know, you've been talking around us, like that fellow in _The Usual Suspects_." He took a seat on the prosecutor's desk. "But fortunately, we have one way of sifting through your bologna and finding the real deal."

Lex shrugged and drank from the glass.

"Your honor, with the permission of the court, we'd like to bring an expert in lie detection."

Wonder Woman stood up, her golden lasso clutched in her hands.

"Objection, your honor." Loring stood up, her face red. "This is all kinds of inadmissible…"

The judge banged the gavel. "Mr. Timmons, you know as well as I do that the lasso –and its results- are inadmissible in court. I'll have to instruct the jury not to take into consideration anything said because of it."

"Yes, your honor, but at this point, I'm pretty sure Mr. Luthor has gotten away with the biggest pile of lies the world has ever seen. But if we can extract a nugget of truth, inadmissible as it were, we could have a glimpse of the madness and depravity that hides behind that charming façade. Even if he wins this case, the people will know that he killed Superman."

"Mr. Timmons, I cannot…"

"Your honor?" Lex said, straightening his tie. "I'll allow it."

"Mr. Luthor, I don't advise…"

"It's ok, Miss Loring." He coughed, clearing his throat

"It's still inadmissible."

"I'm not afraid to speak." He said so softly, it sounded like a whisper.

Wonder Woman approached the stand. She wore a business suit, much like the other day, but this time everyone could see the black band in her left arm, with a red "S" shield on it. She uncoiled her lasso and dangled it in front of Lex.

He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the lasso with both hands. A golden halo enveloped him.

"Lex Luthor, did you kill Superman?"

Lex opened his mouth and said. "No."

Wonder Woman's face was a stern mask, but when he answered, her jaw dropped.

"Were you part of his murder?"

"No."

"Did you hurt him in any way?"

It took a second. "No."

"What happened to him?"

A beat. "Bruce Wayne Batman killed him."

"And where is Batman?"

He raised his eyebrows before answering "I don't know."

Wonder Woman pulled her lasso off Lex's hands, her eyes unbelieving. Slowly, her eyes became bloodshot, her nostrils flared and her mouth opened in rage.

"You lie."

Her words floated in the courtroom.

"You LIE."

She gripped the bannister and splintered it.

"BY HERA, YOU LIE!"

Her scream was deafening, but Lex didn't flinch. Wonder Woman dropped the lasso and wrenched off the witness stand, throwing it away, and went for him.

Chaos erupted.

The judge banged his gavel, calling for order, people screamed, some fled for the exits, and an enormous green hand enveloped Wonder Woman.

"DIANA! CALM DOWN!" Green Lantern stood in the aisle, struggling to control the enraged princess. "THIS IS NOT THE WAY!"

"He did it! I know he did it!" There were tears in her eyes.

"We can't prove it! We have nothing." he gestured around. "And thanks to your outburst, we have even less."

"Batman couldn't have…"

"Maybe…" Green Lantern said, briefly touching his throat. "Maybe not. But this is not the way. We're done here."

Diana nodded and Green Lantern slowly dropped her to the ground. Lex stood there, her lasso in his hands. He offered it to her.

"For what it's worth, Diana, I did not kill him."

Wordlessly, she grabbed her lasso and stepped away. She walked through the aisle, past the court doors and left the courtroom. Green Lantern eyeballed Lex and followed her out.

* * *

_Judge's chambers_

"I have never, in my years on the bench, seen such an appalling display of professional misconduct like yours, Mr. Timmons."

"Your honor, I never thought…"

"You never thought what? That a warrior princess would behave in court when things didn't go her way?" Jean Loring was furious. "If it wasn't for Green Lantern, my client would be…I don't even want to finish that sentence."

"I agree. The case didn't go your way and your cheap trick failed you. On behalf of the court, I'd like to apologize, Mr. Luthor, for any harm incurred."

"That's ok, Your Honor. I'm fine." Lex shrugged and looked at Timmons. "But if there's any damage, you'll be hearing from my attorney."

* * *

"Foreperson, have you reached a verdict?"

"We have, your honor."

The bailiff took the slip of paper from the foreperson's hand and gave it to the judge.

"On the charge of genocide, what say you?"

"We, the jury, find the defendant Alexander Joseph Luthor, not guilty."

"On the count of felony murder, what say you?"

"We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty."

"On the count of sabotage, what say you?"

"We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty."

"And on the count of public endangerment, what say you?

"We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty."

"Thank you for your services, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you're excused. Mr. Luthor, you're free to go."

* * *

Lex and Jean Loring parted ways on the steps of the courtroom. He refused to give an interview, while Jean faced the reporters and said there would be a press statement forthcoming, but Mr. Luthor just wanted his privacy for the time being.

His limousine approached the curb and he climbed aboard and sped away. Once safely seated, he loosened his tie and relaxed. Pearl greeted him from the seat across him, surrounded by flashcards, a headset and a video screen.

"How are you feeling, Lex?"

Lex signed _Fine. Those idiots._

He removed the small speaker from behind his top molars. He disengaged the electronic device from his necktie and dropped it in the ashtray. He crushed them with a paperweight while Pearl sat next to him.

"How long until the paralyzer wears off?"

_Six hours._ Lex signed. I c_ouldn't risk any less. Did you have any trouble with the flashcards?_

"No." She beamed. "I expected her to ask more questions, but she just went for the easiest. And in the judge's chambers, I went with the basics."

He nodded. _I guess she never expected her lasso could be defeated with a vocal cord paralyzer, a voice modulator, a gesture stimulator and a very lovely, loyal woman with all the possible answers. _He kissed her hand. _The lasso compels you to tell the truth, but if you are physically unable it's completely useless._

"What if they analyze the glass? Won't there be traces of the paralyzer?"

He shook his head and produced the glass from his coat pocket.

"The facial movements were incredibly accurate." Pearl said. "The words I said absolutely corresponded to your jaw and vocal motions."

_Jonah did well. I could feel my paralyzed muscles move to form the words you said, even when they wanted to say something else, what she wanted to hear. There was a slight delay in the response time. That second's delay could have cost me dearly. _

He massaged his face. _I think my right cheek is still trying to say "Bruce Wayne Batman"._

"And how does it feel?" She said, caressing his neck. "The lasso?"

_Wasn't so bad._ He grinned. _After all, I didn't kill him._


End file.
